Down at the Lone Star
by MizzezLemon
Summary: Edward Cullen lives in a world with no complications, and he likes it that way. An undeniable attraction, a motorcycle, a blog, and a complication. What is really going on down at the Lone Star?
1. Chapter 1

All plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the author. No copying or reproduction of this work in any language is permitted without the express written authorization of the author. Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. Feb. 2011.

Welcome to the collaboration account between **Carson1 and MizzezPattinson. **You can also check out our personal accounts (Links on our profile page). This is our second collaboration together, our other fic _Of Mustangs & Men_ can be found on Twilighted.

_**Thank you to the wonderful Coachlady1, our amazing beta. Check out her story, A Life Contrived. XO BB**_

_**Many thanks to our Twilighted beta xrxdanixrx. Go read her newest fic Washed Up. Much love, hun!**_

**So, here we are, back with another fic inspired by real life events. It's not the type of story you are used to seeing from us. We're going to a darker place than normal at times, with themes that may be upsetting to some.**

**A Texas themed restaurant, a woman trying to find herself, and a man who doesn't want complications.**

**Come. Join us to see what happens, **_**Down At The Lone Star.**_

_**Chapter 1 **_

_**Bella**_

A breakup is supposed to be final. Kind of like a death, in a way. You should be able to close one door and open another without the first one coming back to hit you in the ass. I suppose for some people, it's like that. I'm, unfortunately, not one of those people.

I carry things around for a long time, wondering, analyzing, and debating with myself on what I could have done differently. In this case, I know I let it go on for too long. Fear of the unknown makes you do stupid things, stupid things that an otherwise intelligent and independent person would not normally do under different circumstances.

To be fair, the circumstances in this case were devastating-the unexpected loss of my father to a heart attack. He died doing the one thing he loved most in the world-fishing with his best friend. Being the daughter of a police officer, I've always had it in the back of my mind that some random person could come to the door and tell me my father has died in the line of duty. You don't expect that person to be your boyfriend, the alleged love of your life. You aren't prepared for those words to leave his mouth. And you sure as fuck aren't prepared for the numbness that takes over in the weeks and months that follow.

As darkness took over my life, so did Jake. I was unable to make a single decision about my father's funeral. Jake and Billy made all the arrangements. I couldn't decide what to wear to the service. I just stood in front of my closet and stared blankly at the clothes on the hangers, seeing nothing, feeling nothing, wanting nothing more than to wake up from the nightmare. I vaguely remember Jake pulling out a long, black, depressing dress and helping me put it on.

In the days that followed, I went where he told me, slept when he said I should, and ate what he put in front of me. He told me to sell the house, and I did. I couldn't even contemplate trying to figure out bills and mortgage payments. I was having enough trouble just trying to get up in the morning.

I moved in with Jake and Billy as soon as the house was sold and promptly became the equivalent of a maid. I welcomed it gladly at the time. Keeping busy was a good thing. I made meals. I scrubbed floors. I shopped for groceries from a list that Jake made. I helped Billy when he needed me to. I had sex with Jake when he wanted it. I was content to be numb.

That cycle went on for weeks until one day, while staring at but not registering the Mariner's game, it dawned on me that I was missing my final year of university. I didn't know what day it was. I didn't even know what month it was. I didn't know how I'd become a doormat. I only knew I didn't like it.

I distinctly remember the exact moment when the numbness wore off. Jake was sitting in his old, brown, tattered chair, his feet up on the coffee table, his eyes glued to the game. He barked an order at me to bring him a beer. He didn't even look at me.

"I'm supposed to be at school," I had said.

"Aw, Bells, we need you here. School can wait. It'll always be there. Are we out of beer?" He spoke the words without tearing his eyes from the flat screen.

"I need to go to school. I need to finish my thesis." My voice sounded harsh and alive, and it made me feel like I was in control for the first time in a long time.

He had narrowed his eyes, but still didn't divert them from the screen. It was apparently more important than I was. "It's the top of ninth, here. Can we talk about this later?" He actually sounded pissed off that I was interrupting a stupid baseball game.

"No, we can't. I want to talk about it now."

From there, things went from bad to worse. The emotions I'd kept bottled up inside exploded full force-there was screaming and yelling, followed by more screaming. He accused me of not appreciating the fact that they'd taken me in. I reminded him that he was the one who wanted me to sell Charlie's house.

He accused me of trying to break up our home. I laughed at him. This wasn't _our home_. A home is supposed to be alive and filled with memories you want to keep.

He insinuated that I was having an affair, which was ridiculous. He knew where I was every waking and non-waking minute.

And then, in the middle of his insane accusations, it dawned on me. He was trying to keep me here... to guilt me into staying. It's not as if I didn't love Jake. I did. He was my first love, and he'd been there for me when I'd desperately needed someone. But somewhere in between the funeral and the Mariner's game, our relationship had changed.

We'd fallen into a dangerous cycle of monotony. Breakfast cooked and served promptly each morning. Dishes washed and cleaned. House vacuumed and de-cluttered. Errands for Billy completed. Dinner put into the oven then eaten. TV turned on and left to fill the gaping silence between us.

I couldn't remember the last time he'd asked my opinion on something. I just followed instructions and did what he told me to. That was not the person my father devoted his life to raising. I've always been quiet and conservative, enjoying an evening of reading over spending time at ridiculous parties where too much alcohol tended to lead to regrets in the morning. In high school, people called me stuck-up, bitchy, even, because I didn't socialize with the _in_ crowd. I actually think Charlie liked that about me. He always wanted me to be independent like he was. But I could feel that independence slipping away, and it scared the hell out of me.

I didn't want to feel like I relied on anyone anymore. I didn't just want my life to be doing Jake's laundry and cooking him dinner. I didn't want to lie underneath him, feeling nothing while he fucked me. I could feel the person Charlie had raised slowly disappearing, a ghost of who I used to be, and I knew I couldn't let that happen. I owed it to Charlie not to let that happen.

So, for the first time in months, I made a decision. I broke the cycle we'd fallen into, packed my clothes, and drove away. The really scary thing is he just let me. He didn't try to stop me or convince me to stay. He didn't tell me that he loved me or pretend that he could change. I actually think he was relieved.

I drive through endless random towns, sleeping in cheap motels to try to make the little money I do have last as long as it possibly can. After the house was sold and the mortgage and bills were paid off, there wasn't a whole lot left. A two-bedroom house in Forks is not exactly prime real estate.

I don't spend too much time in any one place. No more than a few days of wandering the nameless streets, staring blankly in shop windows, eating sporadically at roadside restaurants. I don't really know where I'm going, only that it's as far away from Forks as I can get.

I pass through Spokane into Montana, watching as the landscape changes. I spend a few days in North Dakota, but it still doesn't seem far enough away. I breeze through Iowa, and stay for a week in St. Louis. I'd actually started to like St. Louis until the front desk manager asked me out. I packed up and left within an hour of that. I'm not ready to date. I'm not ready to talk about my life. I don't even know what my life is supposed to be.

Spending time alone, driving in a beat-up truck that only has minimal radio reception gives you time to think about your life. I know that breakups are bad at the best of times. Having lived through my own parents' divorce, I know that things can get ugly. I think that I would've been better off if Jake was just some random guy who didn't have ties to my life and Charlie's. It was hard for me to think about one without remembering the other.

Thoughts of Charlie watching the Mariner's game while I cooked up his latest catch of the day only made me remember he'd been fishing with Billy, which made me think about Jake, which made me think about the game he'd been watching when I'd left. It was a never-ending circle that I couldn't break out of.

Somewhere between Nashville and Atlanta, I start to get tired. I'm tired of driving, tired of the cheap motels, tired of only having myself to talk to. Tired of the inevitable guilt I feel every time I think about Jake. Maybe he's right. Maybe I am being ungrateful for everything they did for me. Maybe I owe it to him to turn around and go back.

But as I drive into Florida and become amazed by the drastic change in the climate, by the houses and the palm trees that dot the road, I know the last thing I want to do is to go back. Going back means losing myself to numbness. I'm tired of not feeling anything.

Night has fallen when I pull up to a welcoming Hyatt sign. It's way more expensive than the dives I've been staying in, but I'm completely exhausted, and I can't even imagine driving for one more minute.

My room is generic. The view, however, is not. In my pajamas, I peer out the window, to a bridge that glows neon blue, a stark contrast against the blackened sky. The color reflects off the water, casting an electrifying glow and sparking something deep inside me. Maybe it's hope, maybe it's promise, I'm not entirely sure, but it's something other than numb. I stare at the bridge for a long time, at the skyline of the city illuminated behind it, and at the blur of the cars as they cross it.

As I move from the window and crawl into the welcoming bed, I wonder where all the people in those cars are going. Home from an exhausting day at work? Out to dinner with friends? Off to live their lives? I shut my eyes with the knowledge that tomorrow I will cross that bridge and start to live mine.

_~DATLS~_

_**Edward**_

"Thanks, sweetheart." I grab my coffee from the barista and wink at her for good measure. I walk out of the little coffee shop a block away from the restaurant that I own, trying to prepare for the hell that this day is going to be. I'm pretty sure that Rose already has a pot on, but there's something about Mrs. Cope's coffee that wakes my ass up in the morning. Lord knows I need the energy today. We're short staffed by one, but the impact it's going to have on the team will be unbearable.

Lauren quit after I broke the news to her that I wasn't going to be anything more than a friend... with benefits. Relationships aren't my thing. They fuck you over, leaving you unfocused and drunk for weeks after the split. Fuck that!

Kate did a real number on me. She was my first real, adult relationship. I had women before her, it wasn't hard to find company when I needed it, but Kate was my world. Apparently, I wasn't hers. The problem was that I didn't know that until I caught her riding one of my college buddies on our bed. The bed that we had fought over and eventually picked out together. Talk about a major burn and a fucking reality check.

I met Kate in college. She was blonde, beautiful, smart, and full of life. She was majoring in visual arts, mainly photography. While I'd been sitting in The Cave, a common area in the college, studying like a mad man for my business degree, a flash from across the room had caught my eye.

Kate stood there with a shy smile on her face, holding a camera in her hand. Walking toward me, she extended her hand. "Hi, I'm Kate. Sorry about the picture. I can erase it if it makes you uncomfortable. I just liked the way you looked, sitting there, entranced in your book. I'm a photography major." She grinned at me sheepishly, raising the camera, and I was hooked.

Kate and I dated for almost two years. I thought I'd lucked out and found "the one." My parents, Carlisle and Esme, loved her and welcomed her to the family almost immediately. Every time I looked at my mother, I saw wedding bells in her eyes. The truth is, I did, too, but I was waiting for the perfect time. I needed to get things wrapped up with school and give the restaurant a good head start before I could seriously go out and buy Kate a ring. By waiting, I thought I was providing her with a good foundation to a happy future.

With the opening of The Lone Star and the stress of managing a business that exploded with success, I was busy. I had new responsibilities. I don't think it entitled me to be fucked over by the woman who supposedly loved me.

I had just finished a long-ass day working the bar, filing receipts, and whipping my employees into shape. Don't get me wrong; they were a good crew, but they were young and could get distracted easily. I was completely exhausted, but that night was the night. I was going to ask her to marry me and we were going to start our life together.

When I got to the house, nervous as fuck, the lights were out; a faint glow from the television illuminated the living room through the window. Kate wasn't expecting me home. I had called earlier and told her not to wait up, that I would most likely crash in my office at the restaurant.

Walking in to our home and seeing my girlfriend's ass bouncing up and down on my buddy's cock was not the welcome I was expecting. Needless to say, I threw Garrett out after a shot to the face. I also threw all of Kate's shit into an oversized duffle bag, firing it out the front door along with them. I never saw Garrett again, and I don't really give a shit about Kate and what she decided to do.

From that day forward, I swore to myself that no woman would _ever_ break me again.

No relationships. It's kind of my mantra, something I keep telling myself as I soak up the warm Florida sun on my way to work.

_~DATLS~_

I sit at my desk and put my hands behind my head, leaning back in my chair. We haven't even started for the day and I'm already exhausted. Alice decided to come in early to make a _"_Help Wanted_"_ sign to put in the window. I didn't even have the chance to put an ad in the _Florida Times-Union_, and the people were already pouring in to be interviewed.

Most of these "people" are college girls that want to take a ride on my dick. Nope, not gonna happen. Lauren was the only one who I crossed that line with and it will never happen again, I can guarantee you that. Too many shots one night after a long-ass day of work led to "the best night of my life." Her words; not mine!

Before I can get two minutes of some peace and fucking quiet, the door to my office bursts open. "Ever heard of knocking?" I ask dryly, eyeing Rosalie as she barges in.

Rose is the assistant manager here at the restaurant. Sometimes, I think she has bigger balls than Emmett, her significant other who also happens to be my brother.

"Listen, E. Maybe I should take over this hiring process. You've sent every single person who has applied packing and we really need the help. We're going to be fucking swamped tonight," she complains, looking at her perfectly manicured nails.

"You know what, Trigger? That's a great idea."

She smirks at me. "I knew you would eventually see that you can't do shit without me. It was only a matter of time," she fires back.

"Yeah, you keep convincing yourself of that. At least I'm not pussy-whipped like my brother. You can go ahead with the hiring. I have too much paper work to do, and I have to run the bar tonight. Go get 'em, blondie," I grumble.

"Well, maybe next time, you'll think twice before you whip your cock out and screw the next breathing female that walks by," she snarks, quirking a perfectly shaped eyebrow at me.

"You know me almost better than anyone else. It wasn't like that, and you know it. Lauren was crazy; she had china patterns picked out before I had my pants undone." I can't help but shudder at my lack of judgment at the night in question. "I don't do that relationship shit, not anymore," I mumble.

"Who are you trying to convince? Me or yourself?" she presses.

I furrow my brow. She's getting close to crossing the line. "Don't you have work to do, Rose?"

"God, you're turning into one miserable son of a bitch, you know this, right?" Flashing me her sarcastic smile, she walks out the door, slamming it to make her point.

"Yeah, I know," I whisper to no one in particular.

The lunch crowd isn't so bad. We're packed, as usual, but at least we're staffed enough to take care of our customers. Tonight will be a different story. Jasper came in early to help out, and after some promises of a weekend off with Alice when I'm fully staffed again, he agrees to work right through until close.

Sometimes I can't be thankful enough for the friends and family in my life. Jasper and I have been best friends since we were in junior high, attached at the hip, until he discovered my baby sister, Alice.

Let's just say that in our senior year, when I caught him with his pants down to his ankles and Alice's head bobbing in his lap, our friendship _almost_ didn't last. I was horrified. Who the fuck wants to see that shit? Good thing for Jaz, he proved his devotion to Alice and we moved on. He doesn't think that I know he talked to my father and asked for his blessing to marry Alice. I swear to God he should have been born in the 1800s.

As the day creeps closer to dinner, I realize that I'd better make sure the bar is stocked and good to go for the night. Being a licensed restaurant has its perks, and the money that rolls in just from the bar keeps us above in the profits. The college kids love it here, especially when the Jaguars have a game.

Of course, along with this comes a group of university girls that line up at the bar to persuade me to get my dick wet in there barely there tops and skirts. Who I am to complain? I love the visual; what man doesn't? Unfortunately for them, it's going to take more than flashing me their tits and smiles to get me really interested. I indulge the odd time... I am a man, a thirty-three year old man with needs that have to be met, but the thing with college girls is that they're clingy and automatically change their _Facebook_ relationship statuses the second they have a roll in bed with me. That shit doesn't fly with me.

Case in point-Tanya. Last fall, I met her, a college regular that spent more time at the restaurant than she did on her schoolwork, I'm sure of it. She was beautiful, sexy as hell, and she wanted me. She tried too hard at times, but after a couple months of her nonexistent clothing and not-so-subtle touching, I gave in. One night after I closed down the bar, she was still lingering. She followed me to my office, and before the door was even closed, she was palming my cock and licking my neck. I let her suck me off. It was alright; I've had better.

It took almost two months to convince her that I was not, although she was skeptical, in love with her, and that I could in fact live without her. She still comes around every now and then. I think she still hopes for a repeat performance, or more, perhaps. Yeah, like I said before, no relationships..._ Not going to happen!_

_~DATLS~_

"We need four Alabama Slammers and a round of shots-your choice-for the ladies at table six," Emmett shouts from the end of the bar over the blaring music.

"I'm on it, just give me a sec," I yell back.

The two college freshmen sitting at the bar in front of me have spent the last forty-five minutes arguing the reasons why I should indulge in a round, or five, of body shots with them. All I want to do is tell them to fuck off because I'm working, and it's busy like a motherfucker tonight. Being short-staffed really makes a huge difference in the quality of service we provide. The trays of drinks are sitting, undelivered, for longer than they should be, and the crowd at the front door is bordering on out of control.

"Ladies, two lemon drops," I announce as I set the shots down on the table.

"How 'bout a blowjob, Edward?" the redhead asks as she seductively licks her lips and stares at me through her mascara-caked lashes. What is it with all the makeup? Why does every woman feel the need to plaster it on? We're not turned on by it... at least, I'm not.

"Excuse me?"

Licking her lips, she continues. "You know, the _creamy_ shot that tastes really good? It has the whipped cream top."

Subtle as hell. Real attractive. "Yeah, I know what it is. I'll be right back to get that for you." Much to her disappointment, I walk to the end of the bar and begin to mix the drink order Em requested.

As I'm pouring the Southern Comfort into the glasses, I glance up toward the sheer mayhem at the door, wondering where the fuck Rose is. _Fuck, do I have to do everything?_ That's when I see her, a beautiful woman, not a freshman college girl. No, she's definitely a woman, shifting nervously at the entrance. Her eyes are darting around, and she looks so lost.

My eyes and dick do not fail to notice the blush that creeps up on her cheeks and the juicy bottom lip she is currently nibbling. Fuck, I want to nibble on it. Her outfit is not what most of the patrons would wear here, but goddamn if I don't find it hot as hell. A white shirt, a tight black skirt, and the fuck me shoes... don't forget those. She runs her hand through her long, dark hair nervously as Rose finally decides to take command of the waiting area again.

I finish making the drinks, lining them up on a tray for Emmett to grab while I try to remember what the fuck I'm supposed to be making next. I glance back at the entranceway, adjusting my dick, watching as she talks to Rose.

I have no idea who this woman is; she's not part of the usual Friday night crowd, that's for sure. Maybe she's that food critic Alice keeps trying to convince to come here. Yeah, great impression... welcome to my restaurant, can I introduce you to my cock? _Holy fuck, Cullen, you need to stop this! Who gives a shit?_

I decide I need to clear my head, leaving Emmett in charge at the bar. Not a wise idea, but it needs to done. I stalk back to my office and hope with any luck that when I go back out there, she'll be gone.

Chapter End Notes:

Visuals of the Jacksonville Main Street bridge:

.com/albums/xx267/CarLemon/Down%20At%20The%20Lone%20Star/

Let us know your thoughts.

Twitter: MizzezPattinson, CarLemon, Lonestarward


	2. Chapter 2

All plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the author. No copying or reproduction of this work in any language is permitted without the express written authorization of the author. Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. Jan 2011.

_**Thank you to the wonderful Coachlady1, our amazing beta. Check out her story, Intrigue and Intimacy.. XO BB**_

_**Many thanks to our Twilighted beta, xrxdanixrx. Run to read her new story: Washed Up. Thanks BB!**_

Thanks to all those reading and reviewing. Let's see what the rest of the night brings for these two. Come, join us.

_**Chapter 2**_

_**Bella**_

"What are your strengths?"

"If I was a coach on a football team, what position would I put you in?"

"Do you plan on finishing your degree?"

"Where do you see yourself in five years?"

"Tell me about your experience in managing multiple projects."

"We'd need to work... closely together. Do you have a boyfriend?"

I feel like I'm going to throw up. It's hot as fucking hell, my feet are killing me in these heels that I mistakenly decided to wear, and my white blouse has a stain on it from where I spilled the coffee that Mr. Wandering Eyes offered me just before he propositioned me less than twenty minutes ago.

I'm on day ten of the job search from hell, and I'm starting to think I'm never going to find anything. I've burned through most of the money in my bank account, and am now staying at the Motel 6. Think Bates Motel from _Psycho_, only worse. Yes, it can get worse, trust me. The flower polyester bed spread and the 1978 décor are particular favourites of mine.

There is also a beer-bellied, thinning white t-shirt wearing middle-aged man who sits outside of room eight in a rounded, orange, plastic lawn chair, and leers at me every night when I return to my own personal hell. Good times, indeed.

I've applied for more jobs than I can count. I am woefully under-qualified for the positions I'm applying for, unless, of course, I'd like to sleep with that last guy, and I'm starting to think that leaving without at least finishing my psychology degree was, quite possibly, the worst idea I've ever had. Turns out counseling centers want you to have the degree and the experience before they'll even let you in to make coffee for people.

On top of everything, the truck, the only tangible thing I have left from Charlie, has started to make funny noises. I wish I had paid attention to Jake when he would rattle on about the engine. At least maybe I would know what's wrong with it. Not that I could afford to fix it, mind you. No, for that I need a job.

Night has fallen when I pull into a busy strip mall flanked by a Tops grocery store, that's sure to be giving out samples that will serve as my dinner this evening, and a restaurant called The Lone Star. The truck sputters to a stop, earning the attention of a few people getting out of their minivans and perfectly running Volvos. Yeah, you're all just jealous.

I slam the door shut and make my way across the lot en route to the grocery store, mentally calculating how many more days of this I can manage without dipping into my slush fund. I think today's the last day.

The slush fund is my backup plan to my current non-plan. A couple of thousand dollars that I can use to either pick up and drive somewhere else, or swallow all of my pride, get on a plane, and go stay with my mother and her boy toy of the month in the middle of the nowhere Canada. Snow, ice, and hockey... although, she does tell me they have good ice wine. That thought is the only thing remotely redeeming about moving in with my mother. I mean, she's my mom, but when she left Charlie in charge of raising a thirteen year old and essentially disappeared from my life, what little respect I had went with her. I'm not even sure she would recognize me if she saw me. No, moving in with my mom is my last option, and I'll do everything I can to prevent it from happening.

A group of young twenty-somethings dart in front of me, one of the guys holding open the door to the restaurant for the rest of the crowd. Loud country music flows out, followed by a virtual buzz of voices from deep within the restaurant. At least somebody's doing well. The place sounds like it's packed, and judging from the laughter that drowns out as the door shuts, they're all having fun. Good for fucking you.

I make my way into the grocery store, bending to pick up a red basket and heading over to the bakery section. They always have samples, and the coffee from my interview earlier is the only thing that has hit my stomach today.

I smooth out my black skirt and put a little more determination into my step as I make my way to the pimple-faced teenager, looking bored behind the pastry display. I can be nice when I want to be, and right now, the zit king stands between me and a crusty French baguette.

Ten minutes later, the French bread is sitting nicely in my stomach, and I have two bags of fresh rolls, right out of the oven, marked down to a ridiculously low price in my basket. Men are so predictable.

I wander up and down the aisles, dodging the wailing kids and the annoying people who just stop with their cart in the middle of the aisle, staring blankly at the shelves. What the hell are you looking for? It's not rocket science. You either want the name brand or the store brand. Make a decision. The Tops raisin bran is going to taste exactly the same as the real stuff... okay, maybe not two scoops of raisins, Tops probably only has one, but just fucking decide. _Fuck, I'm in a bad mood. _

It's when I'm in the canned goods aisle that I see it. Stag chili. No matter how many times I would attempt to make homemade chili for Charlie, he always liked this shit better. Not that he would ever tell me that, of course, but he never shut his eyes and practically moaned when he ate my chili.

And here, in the middle of the aisle twelve, I lose it with a complete, full-on meltdown of epic proportions. I slump against the shelves and just cry. Tears for Charlie, tears for anyone who has ever eaten Stag chili, tears for the memories of us I have and the ones we'll never get to make.

The high-pitched scream of a toddler strapped into one of the rickety carts comes to an abrupt stop as he stares at me while his mom looks anywhere but in my general direction. He's looking at me like I'm crazy. I want to ask him why it's okay for him to have a meltdown in the middle of the grocery store, but not me. I want to have someone push me around in a cart and take care of _me_ for a change.

I'm so fucking tired, and if Charlie saw me right now, he'd be mortified. With that sobering thought, I wipe my tears with the sleeve of my blouse, grab a can of the Stag chili and make my way to the checkout.

Twenty-six dollars and seventeen cents later, I'm loading the plastic bags into the back of the truck, and cursing the humidity of Jacksonville. Why did I decide that this would be a good place to stop? The lights of the blue bridge that lulled me into a trance over a week ago peek up in the distance, a stark reminder of how I want my life to change. Having meltdowns in the grocery store is not what I had in mind.

I stare at the steady stream of people that make their way through the doors of The Lone Star. They all look happy. Truly happy. Couples are holding hands, music is flowing, and the brown barn like exterior looks welcoming. So does the sign that reads _All You Can Eat Fajitas $21.99. _It lights up the otherwise darkened windows of the restaurant with the same neon blue glow that bounces off the bridge.

I adjust my bag and move to the front door. Right now, I need happy. I need something to make me forget that I'm completely and utterly alone. And I need to stay away from the Motel 6 as long as humanly possible. I don't want to go back to _nothing_-to four dingy walls and a TV that only gets three channels. To a door that doesn't quite seal properly and lets in the sun all too early in the morning. To the weird creaking sounds and moans that come through the paper-thin walls, interrupting an already restless sleep.

The_ Help Wanted_ sign perched in the window of the oversized door doesn't escape my attention. Restaurants are good places to study people, maybe form the content of my thesis, you know, like I was supposed to be doing instead of waiting on Jake hand and foot. Granted, there's nothing glamorous about working in a restaurant, and it goes against my non-plan of finding a job in the psychiatry field, but without a degree and experience, it's become painfully obvious that that little dream isn't happening any time soon.

I clasp onto the brushed copper star that serves as a handle on the door and pull it open. I'm immediately assaulted by the smell of smoked fajitas and the blaring twang of country guitars that fills the entranceway, which, by the way, is completely packed and spilling into a large bar area.

There are people munching on bowls of tortilla chips and salsa as they wait, their voices raised louder than normal in an effort to hear each other over the music. I push my way through the crowd and to the wooden hostess stand, which is currently unoccupied. Maybe this is the position they're hiring for.

I scan the restaurant, which seems bigger than I imagined it would be. Exposed wooden beams on the ceiling, old bent license plates on the walls, and horse saddles hanging from the ceiling. There are a couple of lassos, various neon beer signs, red jalapeno pepper twinkle lights strung up, and a myriad of waiters and waitresses dressed in jeans and plaid shirts, carrying around trays full of drinks and food.

A tall blond who should be on the cover of some magazine and not working in a Texas-inspired restaurant, saunters up to the stand, looking completely relaxed and very much in control of the chaos that waits in the entranceway.

"Table for one?" she asks as every man and some of the women even, eye-fuck her. To be fair, the jeans _are_ pretty tight, leaving nothing to the imagination, and she's got the plaid shirt tied in a knot at her waist. She just needs some pigtails and I'm pretty sure she'd be every man's country-girl-in-a-hayloft fantasy.

"Um..."

"I don't have all night. The wait is about forty-five minutes."

"Forty-five minutes?" I scan the entryway, and none of these people even seem to care they're waiting that long for roadhouse food when there's an Applebee'sjust down the street where they could probably get the same thing without the wait.

"I actually saw your help wanted sign in the window," I start.

She quirks an eyebrow and leans out from the stand, her eyes raking down me skeptically. "Have you ever waited on tables before?"

"Well, no, but-"

"I don't have time to train a newbie. In case you didn't notice, we're kind of getting busy."

_Getting _busy_?_ Is this not already busy? She narrows her eyes at me, and I can see my window of opportunity slipping away. I'm bumped hard from behind, sending me forward into the stand, probably giving me a bruise on arm, which only serves to piss me off, and I whip my head to the Neanderthal who doesn't even have the decency to apologize. "Hey!" I issue him the Swan death stare, perfected over the years, probably the only thing I ever got from my mother.

"What?" he asks, looking like the idiot he is. Stupid oblivious man.

"Can you maybe not push me?"

"I'm just trying to get a table, jeez," he says, rolling his eyes. Mistake number two. Rolling the eyes... on the list of my top five pet peeves.

"The wait is forty-five minutes, asshole, so keep your shirt on," I practically bark at him.

His gaggle of friends snickers in amusement as I turn my attention back to the hostess.

She chuckles from behind the stand. "Okay, here's the deal. I'm short staffed tonight, so you can clean up tables and deliver drinks if they're sitting on the bar. Try not to piss off all the customers, this guy excluded, of course," she says, lifting her head to the idiot behind me.

"Hey!" he argues.

"Like she said. Keep your shirt on, Sparky."

He holds his hands up in defeat, and she gives him one last smirk before pulling me through to the back of the restaurant.

We push through a set of saloon doors and into a loud and extremely chaotic kitchen. It's pure chaos with servers demanding food impatiently, while two cooks natter on to each other, working feverishly.

The smells are amazing-spicy, smoky, and mouthwatering, reminding me that the French baguette was not nearly enough for me. Plates get banged around, bells get hit, signaling orders are ready, and the two cooks laugh the entire time.

She stops beside a series of beige lockers, and turns to me. "You don't happen to have jeans in that massive bag you're carrying, do you?" she asks sarcastically.

"Um... no. I do have this, though." I pull out my resume, complete with coffee stains from Mr. Horny, and hand it to her. She opens one of the lockers, scanning my resume in the process. Great. We're back to high school, with me completely out of place, standing beside the homecoming queen.

"You didn't say you worked with people before," she mutters.

"You didn't ask."

She smirks, nodding her head. "You were at this Newton Outfitters for a while. Deal with any assholes there?" she taunts.

I like her. I like her a lot. She's a no-nonsense, straight to the point, powerful woman. I have a feeling not many people mess with her and live to tell about it.

"A few. Hikers can be granola-crunching idiots when they want to be."

She laughs, holding out her hand to me. "My name's Rose. Well, that's my real name. When I'm here, I'm Trigger."

I take her hand and shake it. Rose has a grip on her that I won't soon forget.

"Trigger?"

"Yeah. We all have stupid nicknames. There's Bullseye, Tex, Firecracker, Pixie, you get the picture," she says.

"I'm Bella."

"Is that your real name or your Lone Star name?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

"That's my real name."

"And your Lone Star name?" she asks, studying me closely.

"I get to pick?"

"Well, unless you want me to give you one. Right now, judging by the librarian look you're working, I'm leaning toward _Shrew_." I scowl at her, and she laughs, only for a second before the glare returns. "You have something better?"

"Sparky," I say, smirking at her.

"Nice," she replies. She scrunches her nose and then moves to my blouse, yanking it out of my skirt. She opens the bottom three buttons and then ties it in a knot, shaking her head. "This will have to do."

A loud slam of the saloon doors distracts me from the fact that she's just turned my silk blouse into some feeble attempt at a Daisy Duke costume.

"For the love of fucking God, Rose! What the fuck is going on out there?"

I turn to scowl at the asshole that has decided his voice needs to be heard above all others.

"I've got fucking people lined up out the door. There's shit all over the tables, and if somebody doesn't take the tray of margaritas off my bar that's been sitting there for fifteen minutes I'm going to fucking lose it!"

He stops in front of her, green eyes blazing, and just stares... as do I. Faded jeans, hanging off of his hips, a bar towel balled up in his hands, a plaid shirt, unbuttoned and rolled up to his elbows.

"Have you lost the ability to speak?" he yells... from lips that should be illegal.

Holy fuck. Too bad he's an asshole. Why am I surrounded by them today? It must be a full moon.

"I'm trying to save your ass, Edward," she barks at him, not backing down.

"What the fuck is this?" he asks, his eyes finally moving to mine, his jaw set as he rakes his hand through his unruly, crazed hair. "Are you high?" He turns back to Rose. "How is this going to save my ass?"

"_This_ has a name," I mutter under my breath. Who the fuck does this guy this he is?

"Sparky can clean the tables and deliver the drinks that seem to be pissing you off."

Her words only serve to spike his anger. "Sparky? You already hired her? The last time I checked, I owned this restaurant."

"And the last time_ I_ checked, you left me in charge of hiring. We need the help, since everyone you've fucked lately has decided to quit, and she's used to dealing with assholes," she sneers pointedly, keeping her eyes locked to his.

That seems to strike a nerve, and Mr. Personality shuts his eyes, shaking his head before opening them again and leveling me a look that, quite frankly, turns me on more than it scares me.

"Fine. But stay out of my way, and if you break anything, you pay for it," he growls.

He turns on his heel, stalking to the saloon doors. His fucking ass in those jeans looks way too good.

"Sparky! Some time today," he yells over his shoulder, pushing the doors open forcefully and disappearing into the restaurant.

I turn back to Rose, who looks like she wants to kill him...slowly and painfully. It's something I think I would enjoy watching.

"What the fuck was that?" I ask.

"Your boss. If you last until end of the night."

_-DATLS-_

_**Edward**_

What the fuck was that?

What the fuck am I thinking? _Apparently, I'm not thinking at all._

When I saw "Sparky" in the restaurant earlier, I didn't realize she was applying to work here. Of course, I'd have to shoot my big, fucking mouth off and give Rose free reign over the hiring process. I'd really hoped that the brunette would have been gone by the time I made it back to the bar. Instead, karma comes and bites me in the ass.

I nearly came in my jeans when I looked at her up close. The juicy lip I was fantasizing about earlier was nothing compared to the real thing up close. The way her cheeks brightened when I walked in the room, and those eyes, holy shit, let's not forget the eyes. I was lost in them the second we made eye contact. My pants instantly tightened.

I had to get away from her and Rose before my hard-on poked his way through and said hello. I know I'm an asshole. Truth is, you need tough skin to work here, and if Rose already hired her _and_ gave her a nickname, brown eyes was staying. For how long? We'd find out after tonight.

I take my place back behind the bar, thankful that the two vultures from earlier have either left or moved on to a table. I watch as Rose leads Sparky to the front of the restaurant obviously to show her how to do hostess duty. She looks timid and shy and that shit won't fly if she expects to keep a job here.

I shake my head and quickly get lost in mixing drinks.

_-DATLS-_

"Another round for table ten!" Jaz shouts over the noise. Emmett has clearly turned the music up a bit louder now that the dinner crowd is in full swing.

"Coming right up, Tex."

I mix the drinks in a way that would have Tom Cruise begging for lessons. I know that I look like an arrogant prick, but it brings in the money; I also can't complain about the tips.

"Ya see the newbie Rosie brought up to the front?" Jasper asks as he waits, leaning on the bar.

"Sure did."

"Well... what do you think of her?" he prods.

"I don't think anything. Rose hired her; she won't last the week."

"Suit yourself there, E, but she did a fine-ass job putting Ben in his place a minute ago. You know how he gets with the girls after a few beers. All hands and shit. Well, he grabbed at Sparky's ass, and she fed it to him good."

"Huh? You don't say." I try to sound like I don't give a shit, but I am in fact horrified and delighted at this piece of information. The delighted part I can understand, but the gut feeling I'm experiencing, thinking about another man's hands on her is not cool. No, this has to stop.

Setting the drinks down on Jasper's tray, I nearly drop one when I hear a loud crash come from the kitchen.

"Fucking, Yorkie," I mutter under my breath. He's the new assistant chef in the back. It's a good thing he's one of the best, because he can be clumsy as fuck on the best of days.

I take a deep breath and make my way to the back to assess the damage. "Damn it, Eric. This is coming out of your paycheck!" I yell into the kitchen as I swing open the door, but what I see surprises the hell out of me and makes my dick twitch.

Standing in the middle of the kitchen is Sparky, biting her lip and soaked in what looks like our tortilla soup. Her little white shirt is drenched and completely see-through at this point.

"Oh my God! I'm... I'm really sorry, I was trying to balance everything on the tray," she spurts out, blinking back tears that I can see starting to pool in her eyes, "I didn't mean to drop it all. I'll just get my things and go."

Now, let's just say that on any given day with any given newbie, I would be escorting them to the door. Experience is a must here. Without a word, I grab her wrist as she begins to walk away. Her skin is so fucking smooth. My traitor dick agrees and begins to make himself known. Instead of leading her to the back door, I drag her down the hall to my office, open the door, and close it behind her once we're in.

Without saying a word, I go to the small closet in the corner of my office and rip my black t-shirt off the hanger. "Here, put this on," I tell her, throwing it in her direction.

She looks at me like I'm crazy, and at this point, I have to agree. I have no idea what the hell I'm doing, but making her leave is the last thing I want to do.

"Aren't you going to, like, fire me? I mean, it's not like I did much work, anyway. I'm really sorry about the mess. I can go clean it up and see myself out," she rambles on again in a nervous way and turns to leave my office.

"You can't leave halfway through your shift, Sparky."

"Bella," she breathes.

"What?"

"My name is Bella. Well, it's actually Isabella but everyone calls me Bella; they have since I was little and my dad..."

"Bella," I interrupt her rambling.

"Yes?" She blinks up at me, looking innocent and too fucking beautiful for her own good.

"Change your shirt, please, and get back out there. I'm not firing you... this time." I smirk, still staring at her chest. Her nipples are about to rip through the fabric of her blouse, and I'm about to whip out my hard-on and rub it all over her.

"Um, yes, of course, thank you..." She pauses.

"Edward."

"Edward," she whispers. My name has never sounded so fucking sweet on a woman's lips.

I move toward her, my torso brushing against hers as I reach around her for the handle on the door. "Don't thank me yet, sweetheart."

I haul open the door and make my way back to the bar, trying desperately not to focus on the fact that she's about to be topless... in my office... and then in my shirt. I've got a long fucking night ahead of me.

Chapter End Notes:

Thoughts?

Thanks to all of those who donated to Fandom4Tsunami. We hope you enjoy the Lonestarward outtake.

Twitter: CarLemon, MizzezPattinson, Lonestarward


	3. Chapter 3

All plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the author. No copying or reproduction of this work in any language is permitted without the express written authorization of the author. Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. April 2011.

_**Thank you to the wonderful Coachlady1, our amazing beta. Check out her story, Intimacy and Intrigue. XO BB**_

_**Thanks to our fabulous Twilighted Beta xrxdanixrx. Run to read her latest story Washed Up. We love you, hun.**_

**Thanks to all those reading and reviewing. Let's see what the rest of the night brings. Come, join us.**

_Bella_

Chapter 3

He would have to smell this good. No, he couldn't smell all sweaty and disgusting, that would be too fucking easy. He has to smell like this... all clean and spicy and just fucking Edward. I've gone from complete mortification to desperately wet within twenty seconds. At least I still have a job. _Always looking for the bright side, Bella._

I don't know why he didn't fire me on the spot. He seems like the kind of asshole who would do that, but not the kind of asshole who would offer me his shirt... his soft and three-sizes-too-big-for-me shirt that smells like... I don't even know.

I do know that I need to get my ass back out there and try to keep this job. Jasper tells me that on a good night, the servers and the rest of the staff can make over a hundred dollars in tips. That little fact means that eventually I can move out of the _Motel 6 _and maybe up a notch to the _Holiday Inn_... maybe.

I tie the shirt at my waist and push open the door, hoping I don't repeat the cold tortilla soup incident. Back to waiting on people hand and foot. At least now I'm getting paid for it.

_-DATLS-_

"Sparky! Do I need to draw you a map? There are only two tables left in here. The margaritas go to table four, the Coronas go to table five," Mr. Pain in the Ass barks at me as I ask him to explain his unexplainable seating plan.

For someone who thinks he's the fucking smartest man in history, he has the common sense of a gnat. Who puts table four at the other end of the restaurant from table five, anyway? It's like he made it harder on purpose.

"It's not rocket science." I'd like to wipe that smirk off his face... his perfect face, all chiseled and smug. That's what he is... smug. He knows he's hot... so does every other woman that's been in the restaurant tonight. That little fact hasn't escaped me. Every half-dressed college skank within a twenty-mile radius has practically thrown herself at him. It's actually kind of pathetic.

"Sometime today, Sparky," he says, turning his back to me and effectively dismissing me.

"Fucking prick," I mumble, making my way into the almost empty restaurant with the tray full of drinks that is way too heavy, not that I'm going to give him the satisfaction of thinking I can't handle it. It's just a stupid tray of drinks. How hard can it be?

"Hey, are those my Coronas?" a skinny and extremely annoying twenty year old asks. He has the nerve to put his hand on my arm and actually attempt to reach for one of the beers. I'm pretty sure this isn't table five.

"No, they're not."

"I ordered Coronas from that little skinny waitress, like twenty minutes ago," he presses. Stupid pushy idiot.

"Well, maybe you should ask her."

"I'm not asking her, I'm asking you."

I try to keep walking, but he swipes one of the mega-sized bottles from my tray, waving it at me.

I stop and glare at him, and it's one of those moments in your life when everything seems to collide. I've had enough of the sleazy interviews that I've had to endure today, and I've had enough of orders being barked at me all night.

"Sparky, table eight needs to be cleaned."

"That's coming out of your tips tonight, Sparky."

"The fajitas aren't going to take themselves to table fourteen, brown eyes."

Edward's arrogant, snarky voice seems to want to test my patience, and now this asshole at table four clearly needs to be taught some manners.

I set the tray of drinks down on the empty table beside me and give him the Swan death stare. He laughs to his friends as he brings the bottle to his mouth. I lean over the table, grab the bottle from his hands and promptly pour the entire contents into his lap. I've had enough of this shit.

As he stands up and starts squealing like the five year old he is, I stalk back to the kitchen. I'm clearly not cut out for the restaurant business. I'm normally not a weak person, but right now, I'm an emotional wreck. I've been working nonstop for hours, I haven't eaten anything today except for the mini French baguette and the four tortilla chips that I swiped from the bar while Edward entertained the skank crew. Most importantly, I miss Charlie, I miss not having a place to call home, I miss my purple comforter, and I'm wishing now that I never stepped foot into The Lone Star_. _I feel the tears fall as I haul my bag out of the beige locker and head for the doors.

Thank God Rose and Emmett are cleaning up at the back of the restaurant with Jasper so they don't witness my walk of shame. As I march out the front door, I vaguely notice Edward, face to face with the customer from hell, no doubt swapping stories about how pathetic I am.

I push open the door with more force than I probably should, making a beeline for the truck. It's disgustingly humid outside, my feet are actually throbbing in these shoes, and I just want to go back home. Only I have no home. For me to think that the Motel 6 is my home is just beyond sad and only makes me cry harder.

That's when I see the back of the truck, and the gaping empty place where my groceries used to be. Twenty-six dollars and seventeen cents down the fucking drain. I lean with my back against the door of the truck, staring at the bridge and its traitor neon blue lights. That bridge fucking lied to me. It made me think that there was hope.

I fish my keys out of my bag and haul the door open, throwing my bag onto the passenger seat. I shove the keys into the ignition, and there's nothing... nothing but a funny clicking sound. I take a deep breath and shut my eyes before turning the key again. _Please don't let this be happening to me right now. _I look up to the sky, silently praying to whoever will listen. Please, please, just let me drive out of here with a shred of dignity intact.

But no matter how many times I turn the key, the click is all I hear. I finally stop trying and lean my head against the steering wheel. I stay like that for a long time. I don't know how much more I can take. I can feel myself sinking; it's like the numbness wants me back.

I feel a trickle of sweat drift from my neck down my back, and I roll down the window to let in some of the lovely humid air. I guess that's better than stale air. I lift my hair up and let it fall over the back of the headrest, as I stare out into the night.

"Do you always run out on your employers?" I jump in my seat, my heart racing in my chest at the snarky, deep voice that doesn't seem to know enough to leave me the fuck alone.

I turn to the open window where he's currently leaning, looking hotter than hell with that smirk designed specifically to torture me.

"Go away," I mumble, reaching for the handle to start rolling up the window.

He leans into the truck farther, abruptly stopping that brainwave. "What are you doing out here, Sparky?"

"My name is Bella," I say through gritted teeth. _Don't look at him... just don't look at him. It will be easier that way. Easier to drive away... oh wait, you can't drive away._ Fuck, even when I talk to myself I'm sarcastic.

"Why don't you come back inside? You left without your share of the tips for the night."

"You're kidding me, right? I'm on like some _Candid Camera_ show or something, aren't I?"

He chuckles low and deep, and it lands right where I know it shouldn't. "No. I'm not kidding. I don't kid about money. There's almost a hundred bucks in there with your name on it," he says seriously.

I furrow my brow. "Why? I don't deserve it. I got half the orders wrong, broke about nine glasses, and let's not forget the Corona shower I gave Mr. Zit Fantastic."

"Well, I wouldn't want to see you do that to all of my good paying customers, but he deserved it," he says firmly.

"You saw that?" I ask. Oh, fuck. Of course he saw it. I wouldn't be so lucky to have gotten away without his seeing it.

"I see everything."

I lift my eyebrows to him. "I highly doubt that."

"I've seen enough to know that you screw up, but you work hard. You say what you think and you don't let people walk all over you. I don't think you've eaten anything today, judging from the way you inhaled the chips at the bar, and right now, you couldn't drive away even if you wanted to." He wets his bottom lip and cocks his head to the side. "Get out of the truck," he says forcefully, his jaw setting as he hauls opens the door. My eyes meet his, burning and intense. "Unless you have another option I don't know about?"

"Fuck, you're a cocky son of a bitch."

"Maybe, Sparky. You coming?" I bite back my snarky reply to that. I think I'll save them up, because I have a feeling I'm going to need them.

_**DATLS**_

_**Edward**_

_What am I doing?_ I seem to be saying that a lot tonight, especially where Bella is concerned. I can't leave her out here, so I do the next best thing. I taunt her into following me back into the Lone Star, which, I must add, is empty now. I can do this, be alone with her, and not touch her-I hope.

After I said a few choice words to the asshole who swiped the beer from her tray, it didn't take long for the last of the customers to call it a night. Once I saw Emmett, Rose, Jasper, and the rest of the staff out, my eyes fell on the dilapidated truck that clearly belongs in a junkyard.

Parked under one of the buzzing lights, I could see her slumped forward, gripping the steering wheel. She's been out here for a long time, a fact that doesn't sit well. So, without hesitation, I'm suddenly at her window and now inviting her back into the restaurant. Did I mention it was empty? _You will not fuck her in the kitchen, Cullen. You will not fuck her in the kitchen._

I watch as she carefully slides her delectable ass onto the barstool that I carried into the kitchen for her. Her legs are creamy and toned, and I'm fighting the fucking urge to lick them... both... preferably right up the inside of her thighs.

"Edward, I really want to thank you for letting me keep this job. I'll try harder not to break anything next time."

"Let's hope not. I don't need your shitty paychecks to be on my conscience."

"You have a conscience?" she spits back at me, quirking an eyebrow.

"Believe it or not, I do," I say, smirking at her. "I won't lose sleep over firing your ass next time, so at least try to watch what you're doing. Got it, Sparky?"

Without waiting for her to respond, I turn and open the steel walk-in fridge. I scan the shelves and find what I am looking for. Bella still hasn't uttered a word as I place the fresh vegetables on the counter. I'll have to remind myself to thank Eric later for prepping the food for tomorrow before he left. I spread out the tortillas and preheat the grill.

"What are you doing?" Bella asks.

"Um, well, one would say that I'm preparing some dinner for a pretty hungry new employee." I wink at her, which only gets me a more pissed off glare.

"This is really not necessary. I can take care of myself." She huffs, narrowing her eyes at me.

Feisty thing. She puts on a good show; I'll give her that. "Can't you just thank me and get over it? You're hungry, and I'm starving. And do you doubt my cooking capabilities? I'm wounded, Bella."

"I'm not doubting you. I suppose if you're eating it, too, you won't be poisoning it." I chuckle, throwing the vegetables on the grill. "Thank you," she adds.

As the vegetables sizzle, I pour some house red wine into a glass for her. "Here, you look like you need to unwind a bit. Relax, I'm not going to bite you... yet," I whisper the last part, and I don't think she hears me.

I watch her as she takes a sip, those juicy lips that I've thought about all night are wrapped around the rim of the glass, and I feel my cock twitch. She's sipping from a fucking glass, and I want nothing more than those two luscious lips to be wrapped around me, licking, sucking... kissing. _Jesus Christ!_

"Can I help?" she asks, getting off the stool.

"Nope, you just sit your ass down and relax. You'll need your energy for tomorrow's shift."

"But..."

"No 'buts.' Sit," I bark at her, turning and place the tortillas on the grill. _Jesus, she's frustrating._ "Besides, it's almost done." I swear I hear her mumble something about me being a pushy asshole, and I smirk at her. _Believe me, gorgeous; I _can_ be a prick. _"So, what's your story? What brings you here to Jacksonville?"

She shifts in her seat. The reluctance to tell me doesn't go unnoticed. "What makes you think I'm not from Jacksonville?"

"Do you want a list?" I ask, flipping the vegetables on the grill.

"Maybe you just haven't slept your way through everyone in the city yet."

It's my turn to raise an eyebrow. "You don't know anything about me," I say, focusing on the grill.

"I'm sorry. It's just a really long story, and I would rather not get into it tonight."

"Hmmm. A mystery. I'll figure it out, brown eyes," I say, waving the spatula at her. "Okay, then, so where do you live?" I flip the quesadillas off the grill and onto a couple of plates.

"Why are you asking me all these questions, Agent Cullen?"

I chuckle at her reference. "Well, seeing as how you have no transportation at the moment, it would be a shame for you not to tell me. How else will I know where to drive you?"

Her eyes shift down to her lap as she bites into her bottom lip. I actually feel lightheaded as all the blood rushes to my dick... again. How can she be so sexy and vulnerable at the same time? "I'm staying at the Motel 6 on Harts Street until I can find something more permanent. Satisfied?"

"Yes, very much. Is it close to here?" I make another mental note to look into this "motel" when I drop her off.

"It's not too far."

"Alright, then, and you know, if you wanted to take me to a hotel, all you had to do was ask there, Sparky. Salsa or sour cream?" I ask, heading back to the fridge.

"Salsa, please, and dream on, Cullen." _Oh, you have no idea._

"Good choice." Placing a scoop of salsa onto the plate, I slide it in front of her.

It's official. I, Edward Cullen, am now jealous of a fucking finger food. I watch Bella as she licks her lips after her first bite, and it couldn't be a more erotic sight. I lean against the counter, finding it hard to focus on anything but her lips.

"Mmmm, Edward," she moans, as my dick comes to attention... again. "This is sooo good."

I'm willing my mind _not_ to go there, but I'm already in the gutter and have been since this brown-eyed, gorgeous woman walked into the restaurant. "I'm glad you like it. Go ahead and eat. I'm just going to finish up some stuff and then we can get out of here." I walk out of the kitchen leaving my food on the counter. I no longer have an appetite to eat... food, that is.

I try to focus on entering the numbers for the night then lock all the cash into the safe. Before I head back out to get Bella, I grab my jacket off the coat hanger and a hoodie for her. I'm not sure if she has a jacket, but if I'm giving her a ride home, she's in for a rude awakening if she doesn't have one.

"Are you ready to hit the road?" I call out to her as I enter the kitchen.

There she is, standing in front of the massive steel sink doing the dishes. I can't fucking help myself as I look her over. One leg is crossed behind the other, her shoe on the floor, and her toes running up and down her calf. Her face is scrunched up in concentration as she scrubs what I'm assuming is the cheese off her plate.

"I'll just be a sec," she calls out behind her, not noticing me watching, or should I say leering. She looks fucking fascinating in my kitchen. She looks fascinating no matter what she does. Why is this woman affecting me this way? Note to self, do _not_ let on to Emmett, or tomorrow, he'll spend his whole shift looking for my brand new pussy. I take a deep breath and approach her as she blindly sinks her foot back into her shoe. _Fuck me._

"You didn't have to do that. It could have waited until tomorrow. Come on, let's get you home to bed... I mean to your bed... by yourself. Fuck, let's go." I huff as I lead her out to the back door. The visual of her in my kitchen is... distracting, erotic... the things I could do to her up against the sink... Right, we need to get the fuck out of here.

Her cheeks flush as she darts her eyes anywhere but on me, waiting for me to lock up. "How far to your car?" she asks, looking around at the empty back lane uneasily.

"It's right here." I gesture toward the darkened portion of the alley while I put on my jacket. "Trust me; come on."

I can tell that she's hesitant, but she hitches her bag up on her shoulder and walks toward the end of the alley. "This is where you're going to chase me in my high heels down the alley and then toss my body in the river, right?" she asks sarcastically.

I can't help but laugh. "Trust me, if I wanted to do anything with your body, tossing it in the river would be far down on the list."

She shakes her head, and once she reaches the other side of the dumpster, her eyes fall on the beauty that is my Ducati Diavel.

I decided that once the restaurant was successful enough, I'd splurge and buy myself a little something. I always wanted a bike ever since I was little and my dad would take Mom out for a Sunday ride on his Harley.

I've only ever let Rose on my bike, and that's because she knows more about it than I do. No other woman has ever straddled my baby, so this is a big moment and a notch in my man book. I can't fucking wait to feel Sparky's legs wrapped around me.

"You want me to get on _that?_" Bella shrieks, her voice echoing through the empty ally.

I toss her the hoodie as she looks at me like I'm crazy. "Um, yeah. If you want to get home," I tell her, fishing out the helmet that Rose bought for herself from the side bag, clearly a waste of money on Rose's behalf. I never let her back on the bike since she rode it the first time, but it's coming in handy, now.

"Or, if you like, there's probably a bus that will come around in an hour or so." She shoots me a death stare. "You've never been on a bike before, have you?" I taunt.

She folds her arms across her chest, looking pissed off and fucking edible. Fuck, it would be so good to feel her against that brick wall. To have her push me up against it and- "Yes! Of course I have, but how in the hell do you expect me to ride on this _thing_ in a skirt?"

"Well, Sparky." I lean toward her. "You spread your legs and straddle the seat. Then you sit your little ass down on it. Piece of cake." _While you're at it, you can straddle me and sit._

"You have to be out of your friggin' mind, Cullen. I can't sit on that," she complains.

"Afraid to feel some raw horsepower between your legs?" I tease. "Look, it's getting late, so hop on." I throw a leg over and wiggle up to make some room for her sweet ass as images of her straddling me enter my mind. "Here." I hand her the helmet. "Put this on."

"For fuck's sake," she mutters, slipping the hoodie over her head and pulling the helmet on. She makes a show of hiking her black skirt up around her thighs, and I'm more than happy to take it all in. I think my dick is about to rip through the front of my jeans as I eye her milky legs. She really is perfection. I sit and balance the bike as she swings said milky leg over the seat, worming her way closer to me. I can feel the heat of her pussy as she inches herself flush against me. Jesus fuck, this is going to be a long ride.

I rev up the engine and kick it into gear. "Do you trust me?" I call over my shoulder.

"In theory," she says, her voice wavering.

"Hold on tight, Sparky." Her arms weave around me as she locks them around my waist and holds on for dear life.

I pull out from the alley, taking a left on Museum Road and head to I-95. I can hear her giggle and squeal as we take off, her body pressed up against mine. This just brings a whole new level of excitement to riding my bike. Bella's sweet, innocent nature enjoying this ride has completed my night, and this is one ride I don't want her to get off of.

As we merge onto the Interstate and travel north to her motel, I notice the surrounding area becoming more and more shabby and unkempt. This is an area that I haven't frequented much, and by the look of it, it's not one I want to revisit or bring Bella into.

The ride through town goes by way too fast for my liking. I'm enjoying the way her body feels while we bump and turn down the streets. Her hands start to roam at times, not that I mind at all, but she always seems to snap back to reality and replaces them back around my torso. I can feel her breathing change as we ride. Her excitement is permeable as the wind whips by us.

Motel 6 comes into view as I break out of my thoughts. This is definitely _not_ a place I want to leave her. I pull into the parking lot as she points me to her door. Once I kill the engine, I balance the bike until she slips off. I should have made that last longer. I kick the stand down and remove my helmet, setting it on the handle. The way she shakes her hair out after the helmet's off is strangely erotic to me, but then again, I find everything this woman does erotic.

"Thanks again, Edward, for the ride...and for the second chance today. I appreciate it." She runs her fingers through her hair, shaking it out from the wind. This woman shouldn't be staying in this dive of a hotel.

"No worries. So, tomorrow... maybe you want to come in for the lunch shift? It's not as busy, and Rose can spend more time with you... you know, teaching you the basics." Why do I sound so fucking pathetic?

"Yeah, about that." She shifts nervously, adjusting her bag. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I didn't exactly see myself working in a restaurant when I came here."

"Now, why would I take that the wrong way?" I taunt. Jesus fuck, why don't you just come out and tell me I'm a loser?

"I didn't mean that... it's just... I'm supposed to be finishing my masters, and-"

"You're in school?"

"Well, I was, but... it's complicated," she rambles.

"Why am I not surprised?" I mumble. Of course it's complicated... it's always complicated with women like this.

"All I mean is if I do work at the restaurant, it would only be temporary," she explains. "So, if you were looking for someone on a more permanent basis, I totally understand."

"I can do temporary," I say, a little too quickly. And if I have anything to say about it, it will be anything but temporary.

"I'll just bet you can," she snarks.

I quirk my brow as I look at her room door. It doesn't even look safe. "You sure you want to stay here?"

"Um, yeah this is home... for now, anyway. Not all of us can afford some huge house in the suburbs, you know?" she says, trying to sound confident, but I can see right through her.

I watch while she fishes around in her bag for her keys, trying to find some way to make this last longer. I don't want her to stay here, but it's more than that. I feel like once she shuts that door, this... whatever this is, is going to be over.

"So, I'll pick you up around ten thirty tomorrow." She looks at me questioningly. "You know, to prep for the lunch crowd."

"I can get a bus or something. I don't want to put you out." She pulls out her keys and starts to fiddle with the lock.

"You're not getting on a bus. I'll be here."

The corners of her mouth turn up as she tries to fight a smile. "Okay. Thank you," she says, looking up at me.

"I know a mechanic. I'll have him come take a look at your beast tomorrow."

"Don't diss the truck. It was my... just don't," she says firmly, shutting her eyes.

Another part of the mystery I'm going to have to uncover. She wiggles the key in the lock and the door springs open. I peek my head in, scowling immediately. This is fucking brutal. "Well, thanks again. I'll see you tomorrow," she says.

She slips into the room from hell and starts to close the door, and even though I know I shouldn't, I can't stop myself. I thrust my arm between the door and the frame, stopping its movement as her eyes widen at me. "You're not staying here. You're coming home... with me."

**Chapter End Notes:**

Thoughts? Do we like a forward, bossy Edward?

Twitter: CarLemon, MizzezPattinson, Lonestarward


	4. Chapter 4

All plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the author. No copying or reproduction of this work in any language is permitted without the express written authorization of the author. Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. April 2011.

_**Thank you to the wonderful Coachlady1, our amazing beta. Check out her story, Intrigue and Intimacy. XO BB**_

Thanks to xrxdanixrx, our amazing Twilighted beta. Run to read her latest story _Washed Up_. We love you hun! XO

_**Big hugs and thanks to BellaScotia for rec'ing this in the last chapter of Secrets and Lies. If you are not reading this fic, GO NOW, it is amazing. Xo**_

_**Thank you to roxiesmom2009for the rec on RaoR…xo**_

Review replies are not working all the time, but we do read all reviews and appreciate every single one!

Thanks to all those reading, reviewing and recommending this story. Let's see what the rest of the night brings. Come, join us.

Chapter 4

_**Edward**_

If I could kick my own ass, I would. _What the fuck was that?_ My heart is racing and that unsettling feeling that you get in your gut when you're anxious and nervous has surfaced. I have totally jumped the gun on this one.

I had every intention of dropping Bella off at her motel, heading home, and jumping in a hot shower. All I want is to climb into my bed, get under my covers, and not resurface until I absolutely have to. That was the plan, until I saw the mess that Bella considers home. Temporary or not, there's no way that I can, in good conscience, leave her here.

"Edward, I'm not going anywhere but to bed." My traitor cock stirs at those words. "Thank you for the ride. I'll see you tomorrow," Bella all but shouts, narrowing her eyes at me.

I hold my hand firm on the door. "Do you have any idea how unsafe it is here? Look at this dump! And you're all alone. What if some fucking idiot tries to kidnap you, or hurt you?" I spit back. I'm getting angrier at her nonchalance to this matter.

"I'll have you know that I can take care of myself just fine. Taking care of things is a specialty of mine. Now if you don't mind, I just want to have a shower and sleep." She tries to push the door shut, her feisty attitude turning me on way more than it should.

"You are absolutely infuriating and stubborn, Sparky. Does your door even have locks on it? Are they sturdy; how many are there?"

"Edward, relax, the doors are secure, and I can handle myself. Besides, it's temporary. I just need to stay here until I can save up and get my career off the ground," she explains.

"Tell you what, Sparky, if you insist on staying here," I start, waving my hand gesturing to the dump of a motel. "I'll sleep better tonight if I leave you my cell number. You know, just in case someone tries to kick in your door, or something."

She shakes her head, clearly annoyed with me, but reluctantly agrees. Internally, I'm elated that she'll have my number, not that I'd admit that to anyone. I reach into the inside pocket of my jacket and take out my phone. "What's your number? This way I can call you and you'll have mine, you know…"

"Just in case. Yeah, I heard you the first time." Bella recites her number to me and once I punch it into my cell, I save it under Sparky, and hit send. Her cell starts to play the opening riff to Kings of Leon "Closer."I quirk an eyebrow at her as she fumbles through her bag to retrieve her phone.

"What? The lead singer is hot, and I think this song is sexy," she answers my silent question, saving my number into her phone, while I try not to think about the word "sexy" leaving her mouth.

"Promise you'll call if you need anything. I don't want Rose kicking my ass if something happens to you."

She smirks at me. "Right, well, good night, Edward."

I keep my eyes on her, holding her gaze as she gives me a shy smile and shuts the door. I wait until I hear the click of the deadbolt locks before I put my helmet back on and start the bike.

In the less than a few hours, Bella has invaded my comfortable bubble and I'm shit scared of what this means. I try to shake these thoughts from my head as I rev the engine of the Ducati and turn back out on the Interstate, making my way home.

My house, which is located on Jacksonville Beach, is another one of my prized possessions. My grandparents made good on their deals to us Cullen kids. In exchange for a diploma from any college of our choice, Grandma and Grandpa Platt set us up in our first home. The smell of the surf in the morning and the sounds of the waves as they crash onto the shore is reason enough to love it.

I turn the bike on to Florida 9Awith Bella on my mind for the entire thirty-minute drive home. I still don't understand why I have such an interest in her. I'm not going to lie and say that I don't want to strip her naked and worship that incredible body of hers, because I do, very badly. Unfortunately, that's all it'll ever be, an attraction, one that I will _not_ act on.

_DATLS_

I step out of the shower and wrap the white towel around my waist, running my fingers through my hair. It's pointless because it'll just stick up all over the place tomorrow, anyway. I open the top drawer to my dresser, pull out a pair of black boxer briefs, and pull them up my legs.

Too tired to turn on the television, I just pull back the blankets on my king-sized bed and crawl in. Sleep comes easy for me, but my dreams are full of images of Bella. She's under my skin and apparently in my head.

Morning comes too quickly for my liking. The sun peeks through the windows and affectively wakes me from a fantastic sleep and a fantastic dream of Bella, naked, hovered above me. Ignoring the fact that my dick is pointing toward the ceiling and hard as fuck, I trudge to the bathroom and turn on the shower, a very cold shower, effectively deflating my dick and all images of Bella that excited said dick.

I spend a little extra time taming my hair, but eventually give up. This is ridiculous; Bella is just another woman, a beautiful, smart, and sassy woman. Banishing these thoughts, I grab my keys and wallet, and head to my bike. The ride to Bella's motel will clear my mind… hopefully.

Thirty minutes later, I arrive at the dive of a motel, switching off my bike and kicking back the stand. Unfortunately, the drive has done nothing to clear my mind and the atmosphere in this area is beyond eerie.

The image of the drunken guy passed out on the bus bench will be embedded in my mind for a long time. There are a couple of room doors open near the end of the motel, and some guy's passed out in a lawn chair.

I knock on the door to Bella's room. This place isn't safe for a woman to be all alone, and the offer to let her stay at the beach house still stands, at least until she can find her own place. The sound of the deadbolt locks being turned drifts through the door, and then it opens a crack, the chain still in place. Big, brown, beautiful eyes peek through the crack.

"Edward?"

"Yeah, it's me. Your chariot awaits, Sparky."

The door closes momentarily as Bella releases the lock and opens the door. She's dressed and ready to go, and already squeezing through the narrow opening of the door. Even while I'm on high alert to the surrounding area, Bella's outfit still finds a way to stir my traitorous dick, and I feel like I'm seventeen again, walking into a high school party with the cheerleading squad prancing around in their barely-there outfits. However, Bella is hardly half-naked and looks just as sexy, gorgeous, even.

Her long longs are sexy as fuck in her tight black jeans, with boots that come up to her knees, and her top is red and hugging those perfect tits like a glove. I want to devour her on the spot.

"What's the rush, Sparky? You're not going to invite me in?" I smirk at her.

"Um, I thought we had to go? We don't want to be late," she replies nervously as she looks around the parking lot.

Before she can close and lock the door, I reach my arm out and stop the door from closing. "Hiding something?"

"What is it with you and this door? And, no! I just haven't settled in, since this is temporary and all," she whispers, avoiding eye contact with me.

Still, I push forward. The idea of this dump being classified as her home for any amount of time has me on edge. As the door opens and reveals the contents of the room, I'm taken aback. This place is scum, rundown, and a complete piece of shit.

The furniture is tattered and mismatched, which is explainable, considering the whereabouts and price of the place. The one thing that sticks out is the mold and mildew around the corners of the walls, leading up to the ceiling. Have you ever watched a horror movie where the place they stay in is in complete chaos and disrepair? Yeah, that's what this place is.

"Edward, can we please just go?" Bella asks timidly. Her face is flushed and there's no doubt that she's embarrassed.

"Yeah, let's get you to work, Sparky." I start to walk from the dump of a room but turn around and look into Bella's eyes, which are now beginning to tear up. "This conversation is not over. We _will _discuss this later."

_DATLS_

_**Bella**_

_Oh we will, will we?_ Fucking pretentious asshole. Who the fuck does he think he is? Yeah, this isn't the best the place, I'm the first one to admit that, but who fucking died and made him decide where I'm going to live?

I'm fucking hanging on by a thread here, having little to no sleep last night, what with the revolving door on the room beside mine, slamming open and shut for hours, and the memory of that bike ride, haunting me.

Stupid bike. He would have to have a bike, and a leather jacket, and a back that I wanted to stay firmly pressed against. I'm not going to lie, that ride was the perfect mix of heaven and hell. He's probably taken many women, or should I say _college freshmen_, out on that thing. Fuck, he's good.

"You coming?" he asks, straddling the bike and holding the helmet out to me.

Why, yes, thank you, I did already. Twice last night, as a matter of fact, thanks to you. He leans over the handlebars of the bike, dangling the helmet like the proverbial carrot it is. I turn to lock the door, checking on my beer-bellied friend who's in his usual place, slumped back in the orange plastic chair from 1974 and looking like he's already drunk.

I sigh, knowing that Edward's right. I really need to find another place to live. Temporary or not, I'm not sure how much more of this place I can take.

Edward fires up the bike as I toss the key to my room into my bag and put on the helmet. I make my way to the bike and get on, slipping forward and wrapping my arms around his waist.

Another ride tucked into the back of this man. I could get used to this.

_DATLS_

"Sparky, the salt goes into the Corona bottles, the pepper goes into the Bud Light bottles. Why is this so hard to understand?"

Yeah, hit me really hard the next time I say something about getting used to Mr. Mood Swing. He's been riding my ass all morning long, barking instructions and rolling his eyes at me. He's on my last nerve.

Why would anyone use old beer bottles for salt and pepper shakers, anyway? Don't answer that… the same reason you'd have cactuses on your wall, or a flashing, red neon sign, screaming, _Saloon That'a Way_. We're not exactly talking fine dining here.

I was a complete idiot to ever walk into this place. I'm so not the right person to work here. I've lost all patience, with everyone and everything, and if he calls me Sparky one more time, I swear to God—

"There's a crowd starting at the door. Think you can handle that until Rose comes in, brown eyes?" He smirks at me from behind the bar, his green eyes practically dancing. It's like he's taunting me on purpose.

Oh, I can handle that, asshole. Knowing I'm under his watchful eye, I dig deep to find the Swan charm. It's been a while since I've pulled it out, and I'm going to need it if I'm to make it through this.

I start to seat the customers as they come in, trying to space them out evenly for the servers. I still get their names all confused, probably because I have to learn not just one, but two. Yes, his ridiculous nicknames that he says the customers love are a pain in the ass.

The only thing I can really remember is that Jasper is Tex, and thank God for him. He's bailed me out more than a couple of times already. "You're doing great, Bella," he says, winking at me as I clear off table ten… or it could be table fifteen, who the fuck knows.

"I feel like an idiot," I say, piling the discarded napkins and empty beer bottles onto the tray. "I can't remember anything."

"You'll get the hang of it. It's only your second day," he says, taking the tray from me as I try to balance it in one hand. I don't know how he makes it look so easy. He even stops to talk to a few women at one of the tables, holding the tray high above his head the whole time. If I tried to do that, I'd drop it, for sure.

The good news is Rose is finally here and handling the waiting customers with ease, which means I get the fantastic privilege of delivering drinks to tables. I do so warily, taking many of the orders to the wrong people. It's frustrating and embarrassing, which I think is mostly due to the fact that I have to admit to Edward every single time that I can't figure out his insane table numbering logic. If I ever thought waiting on tables was an easy job, I take it back.

As I try to deal with the lunch crowd, I watch Edward shamelessly flirt with the never-ending barrage of women that seem to cycle through the stools at the bar. There's giggling, eye batting, and a lot of whispering going on. Who knew there were that many ways to sexually caress your martini glass?

I stand at the side of the bar, watching them swoon while I wait for an order of Texas-sized Coronas as they blatantly eye-fuck Edward. I think back over the last few days and weeks and what I've experienced that has gotten me to this point.

Jake, treating me essentially like a maid, the sleazy interviews laced with sexual innuendo and blatant propositions, these women who seem ready to throw themselves at this man without even knowing a thing about him, hell, even the guy at the grocery store last night. Is this all there is? Is this what relationships between men and women have come to? Is there no room for growth beyond the glaring differences between us? Or are men and women actually more alike than we really want to admit?

Then it dawns on me. This is the basis of my thesis. Here, in this inconspicuous Texas-inspired restaurant, I can actually start to really put everything I've learned to work for me.

Women and Men: The Evolution of Relationships. I write it on the back of one of the bar napkins as Edward plunks the Coronas down on the tray unceremoniously. "How you holding up, Sparky?"

"Better than I expected," I answer, tucking the napkin into the front pocket of my jeans before wandering to find table nine.

_DATLS_

"Oh, my God, Eric! This is awesome!" I rave as I scarf down a serving of his margarita chicken while the lunch crowd thins. Even though Rose says it isn't very busy, I feel like I've run a marathon or something. My feet are killing me in these boots, and my arms are starting to ache from trying to lift trays that are way too full.

He flashes a big smile at me. "You like that, huh? Chicks love anything having to do with margaritas," he says casually.

"Is that right? And what else has to do with margaritas?" I ask, leaning against the counter.

"Oh, um… you know, drinking games, the girlie garnishes Cullen puts on the drinks, that sort of stuff," he rambles.

"You think we just like the girlie garnishes? Like we could never be interested in just a shot of tequila or Jack?" I ask, quirking an eyebrow.

"No, that's not what I… damn. I should really learn to think before I speak."

"Good luck with that."

He furrows his brow at me while he scrapes down the grill. "What?"

"It's practically impossible. You're a man, and the ability to think before you speak is something that is, generally speaking, lost on you."

"That's a bit of a stereotype, don't you think?" he asks seriously.

"Says the guy who just told me women like girlie drinks because of the fun umbrellas in them," I fire back at him.

He shakes his head. "Yeah. You're going to do just fine here," he says, nudging me in the shoulder.

"Who's this?" A pissed-off and extremely high-pitched female voice interrupts my enjoyment of Eric's chicken masterpiece.

I turn my head to the shrill sound of said voice, looking at her skeptically. She clearly works here. She has a blue, plaid shirt on, tied at the waist, which apparently is the extent of the uniform here, and a pair of tight, expensive-looking jeans on. Her hair's sticking in a million directions and kind of reminds me of Edward's. _Must you compare everything to him?_

Right. I hop off the chair and extend a hand to her as she eyes me suspiciously. "I'm Bella."

"Is that your Lone Star name or your real name?" she asks harshly, not taking my hand.

"That's my real name. Here, I'm Sparky, I guess." I sit back down and dig into my chicken.

"Sparky, huh. I don't picture you as a _Sparky._"

Well, aren't you just a ray of sunshine. "Really? And what do you picture me as?"

"Well, I'm not sure. You're hanging out with Eric here when you're supposed to be working, so maybe _Slacker_."

Oh, I really didn't need that right now. "I've been working nonstop for almost three hours and I just sat down like two minutes ago," I say, looking at Eric in the hopes he'll back me up. He avoids eye contact and keeps scrubbing the same spot on the grill over and over. Coward.

She snorts, rolling her eyes at me. "Whatever. There's like four tables that need to be cleaned out there, when you're done flirting, _Sparky_." She accentuates my nickname a little too much for my liking, turning on her heel in the direction of the lockers.

"I'm sorry. I didn't get your name and I'm pretty sure I'm going to need it for when I tell you to mind your own fucking business."

She turns back to me, lifting an eyebrow. "This _is_ my business, and my name is Alice." She sneers.

I cock my head to the side. "Is that your Lone Star name or your real name?" Back at you, bitch.

"That's my real name. Here, I'm _Firecracker_." Oh, I just bet you are. "And I doubt you'll last the week." I stare back at her, amazed at the frosty reception. Everyone here seems so nice I wonder how she slipped through the cracks. I can't imagine Rose putting up with this kind of bullshit from anyone.

"There's my girl." Jasper's voice breaks our mini stare down, sauntering over to Alice and wrapping his arm around her waist. He kisses her quickly and she visibly melts.

"Hey, Jazz," she says, hugging him back. What the fuck? She can kiss and hug Jasper and I'm not allowed to take five minutes to wolf down some food with Eric? "I picked up your stuff for the masquerade ball on the way over. Wait until you see it! It's so awesome."

Hello, mood swings! I watch as he kisses her nose and shakes his head at her. "Just promise me I don't have to wear tights, baby," he says, smirking at her.

"I promise," she says sweetly. "There is a mask, though."

"A mask, I can handle." He kisses her again and I look away, trying to focus on the chicken. "Oh, did you meet Bella?" Fantastic. Yes, Jasper, I met your crazy girlfriend. Do you know that she has multiple personalities? I lift my head and offer her a half smile.

"Yeah. We met," she says, the icy tone returning as she wraps her arm around Jasper possessively. Oh, I get it now. She's under the incorrect assumption that all women are going to want her boyfriend. Granted, Jasper is cute but definitely not my type. Wait a minute. Since when do I have a type? Jesus, this thesis paper is going to be long.

"She just started last night. She's been doing great, all things considered," Jasper continues. "Well, I need to check on table six. A bunch of crazy freshmen guys trying to out-drink each other and it's only three in the afternoon." He kisses her again before disappearing out the door and back into the restaurant.

"Just so we're clear, Jasper and I have been together since high school," she says as if this is supposed to be an explanation or something.

I nod, hopping off the stool. "And just so we're clear, I'm not interested in Jasper. I'm not sure what kind of relationship you guys have, but if you've been together since high school, it shouldn't matter even if I was interested in him."

She takes a deep breath and I see the tension in her body release. "I'm sorry. It's just, there was this girl who used to work here, and—"

I interrupt her lame attempt at an apology. "It doesn't matter. Just don't go around assuming you know people. Trust me. I'm not here to pick up your boyfriend or anyone else's."

I don't give her a chance to say anything else. As she so rightly pointed out, I've got four tables to clear.

_DATLS_

_**Edward**_

After dealing with the lunch crowd, I take a few minutes to close myself up in my office. The bustle of the customers, paired with the fact that Bella is still learning the ropes has made the day quite demanding.

Looking at the clock, I notice that Alice will be here soon and that alone will take a load off my shoulders. We don't call her _Firecracker_ for nothing. She has determination and is a hard worker. She always gets what she wants; just ask my father and Jasper.

I sit back in my chair, attempting to clear my head. I'm beginning to wonder if letting Bella work here is doing me more damage than good. No matter where I am, or what I'm doing, my gaze always returns to her, watching her, memorizing the way she moves, smiles, and blushes. That fucking blush is going to kill me yet.

I want to know more about her, which I realize is going to be a challenge. Whatever happened to her prior to coming to Jacksonville has her tightlipped…her lips, _Jesus Christ, Edward…enough! _

Just as another fantasy of Bella's lips enters my perverted mind, the door to the office opens, effectively pulling me from my thoughts.

"Seriously, do I need to put a fucking sign on the door that says to knock?"

"Pffft, Edward, I don't need to knock, I know you weren't doing anything, anyways." Alice breezes into the room and sits on the corner of my desk, "So, tell me, dear brother, who is this new girl out there?" She cocks her head to the side.

"That _new girl_ is Bella. She came in last night and Rose is giving her a shot. Go easy on her; she doesn't have the experience that we're used to," I explain to my baby sister as she raises her eyebrow.

"Go _easy_ on her? What the hell have you done with my brother? Are you feeling okay?" she asks as she raises her hand to my forehead.

"I'm fine. She's training and needs this job, and we, if you haven't noticed, are understaffed, so just show her the ropes."

"Did you sleep with her?" Alice continues, narrowing her eyes at me.

"What? No!" I spit back.

"But you like her?" Fuck, she's annoying.

"Well, yeah, she's nice and works hard. She's just a little rough around the edges when it comes to balancing a tray." I smile at the memory of her drenched last night in the cold tortilla soup. "She's a fast learner, though."

I can tell there are a million thoughts going through my sister's mind at this moment, none of them, which I can read.

"I know that look. You _like her-like her_." I watch as she gets off the corner of my desk and starts pacing. "Great! This is all we need around here. You don't need the distraction! Do you not remember what happened after Kate?"

"This has nothing to do with Kate. Jesus Christ, the poor girl needs a job. I'm not fucking her, and I sure as hell am not dating her. I don't do relationships, you know this already, so you have nothing to worry about. There will be no repeats of what happened with… _her_."

"Edward, I just worry about you. Kate did a real number on you, and I can't help but feel protective of you. Just don't go and get ahead of yourself."

_Too late, little sister._

_DATLS_

_**Bella**_

If I could fall asleep on the back of a motorcycle, I would. I'm completely exhausted, and currently being lulled into a trance-like state as Edward whips down the highway. I bury my face into his leather jacket and breathe in the scent, happy to be away from the smoky smell of fajitas, the buzzing excitement of the restaurant, and the two guys who tried to hit on me. There really is something about alcohol that can bring out the worst in people.

The motorcycle slows and I lift my head from Edward's back, scowling up at the Motel 6 sign. He stops the bike abruptly at the entrance to the motel, sending me flying into his back. "What the hell are you doing?" I yell.

He cuts the engine and whips his helmet off, his head turning in the direction of the motel. I struggle to remove the helmet, my hair whipping in the wind until I finally focus on where he's staring.

It's like a scene out of _CSI_. There's yellow _Do Not Cross_ tape stretched in front of the three hotel rooms beside mine. A small crowd of people has gathered, and there are four police cars, parked at angles with their blue and red lights flashing.

Seeing the police cars triggers an automatic response as I think about Charlie. I feel the tears well up while I take in the scene in front of me. Edward turns his body toward me, a look of confusion on his face. "What the hell is going on?"

Chapter End Notes:

Hmm… Thoughts?

Twitter: MizzezPattinson, CarLemon, Lonestarward


	5. Chapter 5

All plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the author. No copying or reproduction of this work in any language is permitted without the express written authorization of the author. Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight.

_**Thank you to the wonderful Coachlady1, our amazing beta. Check out her story, Intrigue and Intimacy. XO BB**_

Thanks to xrxdanixrx, our Twilighted beta. We love you hun! XO. Run and read her new story, _Washed Up._

Thanks to all those reading and reviewing. Oh, dear. The motel… the police… let's check in, shall we?

_**Bella**_

Chapter 5

"I have no idea," I manage to say as Edward drops the kick stand and I climb off the back of the motorcycle, taking in the chaos in front of the motel.

I stare at the police cars, feeling emotion starting to overtake me as memories come flooding back. Charlie, pulling up to our house in his cruiser, the way he hung his jacket with the Forks police emblem always facing so anyone coming into the house could see it, and how he used to painstakingly iron his uniform, the only thing he ever did iron. My grip on the helmet loosens and it slips from my fingers, rolling onto the ground as I fall apart.

I miss him so much, and I'm starting to come to the realization that I never really said goodbye to him properly. I was operating in a fog, completely numb, going through the motions as instructed.

"Bella? What's wrong?" Edward asks, his voice echoing in my ears as he picks up the helmet from the ground and sets it on the seat.

I just watch the lights on the police cars spin and pulse, not even knowing how to explain this. I'm sure he thinks I'm an absolute idiot. I mean, who falls apart at the sight of some police cars?

"Nothing. I'm just… I'm just tired and I want to sleep… really sleep, you know?"

I'm rambling, trying to wipe the tears from my eyes, and he's just looking at me like I'm crazy. Maybe I am crazy. Maybe this is what it feels like to dive head first into madness. Nothing makes sense anymore. I'm all the way out in Jacksonville, pretty much as far as I could ever get from Forks without leaving the country. I'm here without any family, living in a place that barely passes as fit for human habitation, and with this man whose worried eyes I can't seem to get away from.

"Okay, that's it. You're coming home with me," he says firmly, thrusting the helmet toward me.

"I can't go home with you… that's not… that doesn't even make any sense."

"Oh, but this makes sense?" He waves his hand at the mayhem in front of the hotel. "You shouldn't be staying here. It's not safe." He pushes the helmet into my hands. "Get on."

"Edward…"

"If you think I'm letting you stay here one more minute—"

I narrow my eyes at him. "You don't get to decide. It's not up to you," I argue.

"God you're infuriating. Look at this place! Who knows what the fuck has gone on here," he rants, the frustration rolling off him. "What is this about, hm? Is this some way for you to prove that you're strong and independent or something? Or do you just have a death wish?"

"Oh, and going home with you is safe? I hardly know you!"

"You'd rather sleep beside whores and drug dealers? Fuck!" He rakes his hands through his hair, pacing beside the bike.

I look toward the motel and see one of the police officers pushing some scruffy looking man out the door with his hands cuffed behind his back. I wipe my tears as the officer opens the back door and pushes on the man's head until it's clear of the frame of the car. The man disappears into the backseat and that's all I can take. I know Edward's right. I can't stay here. If Charlie knew what kind of conditions I was staying in, he'd never forgive me. All those lecture about being smart and safe; they have to count for something.

"You're right," I say quietly. His pacing comes to an abrupt halt as he stares back at me in disbelief. "I shouldn't stay here."

"Did hell just freeze over? Are you actually agreeing with me, Sparky?" he asks, his smirk returning as I see the tension visibly lift from him.

"Don't get used to it." He fights back a full-blown smile, biting down on his lip in the process. I lean against the motorcycle and cock my head to the side. "How much stuff can you fit on this thing?"

_**DATLS**_

"And you didn't see anything over the last few days that you would describe as suspicious?" the police officer asks as his partner feverishly takes notes.

"I heard people coming and going a lot through the night, but I never actually saw anything," I answer while Edward watches me intently, getting visibly more agitated as I describe what I've heard over the last few days.

The officer nods and hands me a card. "If you remember anything, give us a call. We'll be in touch if we have any more questions."

I take the card, smiling weakly at them before I see them to the door. I close and lean against it, my eyes sliding shut. I'm so fucking tired. I'm tired of living in this hellhole, I'm tired of tossing and turning all night, I'm tired of the polyester bedspread, but most of all, I'm tired of being alone.

"Bella?" My name rolls off his tongue and I open my eyes. "Pack your stuff. You can stay at my place." I open my mouth to protest, but his jaw sets, a look of pure determination on his face. "Just for a couple of days, until we figure something out for you, okay?"

I nod my head weakly. I don't have it in me to argue with him right now, and even if I did, I'm not entirely sure I would want to.

Edward stands guard by the door like some member of the SWAT team as I rifle through my suitcase in record time, packing enough clothes and essentials to get me through a couple of days. I don't feel good about leaving the rest of my stuff here, but I really don't have much of a choice and Edward said we could come back in the morning with Emmett's truck to get the rest.

I throw my backpack over my shoulder and lock the door to my personal hell one last time. "Come on. Let's get you home." His words hit me hard. I don't have a home and at this rate, I'm not sure when I ever will again.

I'm tense the entire drive to Edward's house. While he seems like a decent guy, albeit an annoying one, what I said is true. I don't know anything about him and the only man I've lived with outside of Charlie is Jake. That thought isn't a pleasant one and I wonder for a minute when Edward is going to start barking orders at me.

The whole scenario is strangely familiar. I remember Jake shuffling me from Charlie's house after he died, driving me back to his place because I was incapable of actually operating the truck at the time. And now here I am, my arms wrapped around Edward's enticing body as he drives me back to his place, my truck dead in the parking lot at the restaurant until his buddy mechanic friend takes a look at it.

_So much for independence, Bella._

That thought is obliterated as he slows the bike and turns onto a quiet street lined with extremely large homes. I lean away from his back reluctantly and take in the perfectly manicured lawns and solar lights that dot the landscaping around the houses that look to be expensive.

He turns into one of the driveways and cuts the engine, staying quiet in front of me for a few moments. I look up at the house, my mouth dropping open. It's like some architectural masterpiece. There are solar lights recessed into the ground leading a pathway up to a white three-story cubed house with long, rectangular floor-to-ceiling windows and a white deck that wraps around the second story. A few palm trees line the spaces between the houses, the light breeze blowing through them.

I take my helmet off, staring up at the house. "Are you fucking kidding me?" The words leave my mouth before I have a chance to stop them.

He lifts his helmet from his head, finally twisting back to me, his eyes dark. "No. Welcome home, Sparky." He smirks, throwing his leg over the bike. He unzips his leather jacket, watching me cautiously.

I slip off the bike, setting the helmet on the seat. "This is… this is yours?" I ask.

He chuckles. "Yeah. It's mine," he says, suddenly looking nervous. "Come on, I'll show you around."

I follow him up the stone stairs to the large, white front door where he slides the key into the lock. He holds the door open and I walk through, my feet landing on a light-colored hardwood floor. "It's so modern and open," I say, turning back to him.

"What were you expecting? Mirrors on the ceiling, shag carpeting, and porno music?" he asks, throwing his keys into a dish on top of a large side table at the front door.

"Well, maybe not the porno music."

"Right… not the porno music," he mumbles. He shrugs his jacket off, tossing it on the side table and walks farther into the house into a massive living room, with a couple of brown leather couches that face panoramic windows and the—

"Holy fuck! Is that the ocean?"

He laughs loudly, the sound echoing through the house. "Yeah, Sparky. That's the ocean."

"It's not like a lake or something?" He continues to snicker. "I'm glad I can amuse you," I snark.

"No. It's definitely not a lake."

I walk to one of the windows and lean against it, watching as the waves lap against the shoreline under the muted light of the moon. "I've never seen the Atlantic Ocean before." I can barely hear my own voice. "Can I…" I turn back to him, his eyes intensely focused on me. "Can I go see it?"

He smiles that crooked, panty dropping smile that I'm sure he's used a thousand times before. "You don't need to ask. It's not going anywhere," he says, clearly amused by me. "Come on, I'll take you down to it."

He unlocks a large patio door, motioning for me to join him. Leaving the door open and stepping out onto the deck, I'm immediately assaulted by the salty smell and the rhythmic pound of the waves. He smiles at me then takes the stairs down to the darkened beach.

I hesitate for a moment, watching as he makes his way down a short path, his shadow highlighted by the moon, bouncing off the sand. He stops and turns around, my breathing catching as I watch him. "The view is much better from down here, brown eyes," he calls up sarcastically.

_I highly doubt that. _

I make my way down the stairs and take the path to him while he shakes his head at me in amusement. I stop in front of him at the edge of the sand, the wind blowing lightly through his hair while he stares down at me.

When he said it was too dangerous to stay at the motel, I think he was right. But Edward Cullen in the moonlight, on the beach, with the salty ocean breeze teasing me… This is way more dangerous.

_**DATLS**_

_**Edward**_

For the billionth time since Isabella Swan walked into The Lone Star, I'm questioning my motives… and my sanity. I haven't had a woman in my home, besides my family, since Kate. All of my sexual escapades were either in my office or at their place. Bringing them to my house, my sanctuary, was way too fucking personal and only added to their attachment issues that would ensue after I rocked their world.

Yet here I am with Bella pressed up against me on the back of my bike, and fuck, does she ever feel good. Her tiny little body fits so fucking perfectly up against mine, like it was always meant to be there. All these thoughts in my head have me contemplating getting Em to practice his boxing techniques on me. I need some sense knocked back into my head.

The look on Bella's face when she sees my house is priceless, her eyes wide and full of shock. I think she's impressed; a part of me wants her to be. After showing her around, it's her turn to shock me by telling me that she's never seen the Atlantic Ocean, and my plan is to rectify that immediately.

The way the light from the moon reflects off her beautiful face has me under some sort of spell. My attraction to her is growing with every minute.

_Fuck, why not just start a book of love poems, Cullen? _

"Is it everything you thought it would be?" I ask her as her wide eyes take in the surf in front of her.

Bella's enticing mouth curves into a breathtaking grin as she turns to me. "It's even better," she breathes.

Throwing all caution to the wind, I extend my hand to her. "Take a walk with me?"

Her tiny hand slips into mine as I lead her to the old, worn out log that sits near the shore. I used to spend quite a bit of time out here just sitting and staring out at the horizon. It was also on one of those lonely nights that I decided that no woman would ever hurt me again. What are the odds that I'd bring the first woman ever to set foot inside my home since then to my spot?

As we sit down her hand slips away from mine and I want nothing more than for the heat of her body to be reconnected with me.

"So, Sparky, are you going to tell me what happened back there at the motel?" I ask her while she stares out at the water.

The look in her eyes tells me that she doesn't want to revisit that place in her head, but she sighs and closes her eyes. "Charlie, my father, he was a cop. I guess all that chaos just reminded me of him," she says sadly.

"I'm sorry."

She leans forward and picks up a stray twig, drawing aimlessly in the sand. "No, don't be sorry; it was a while ago. He was fishing one day." A slight smile spreads across her beautiful face. "He used to love to fish, I remember learning how to bait the line when I was a little girl." Shaking her head, she blinks away tears that I can see forming in her eyes and tosses the stick back into the sand. "Anyway, one day while he was in the boat, he had a heart attack… he didn't make it."

I can't imagine how she must have felt, how she still feels. I'm not sure how I would handle the news if anything were to happen to Carlisle. Unconsciously, I place my hand on hers and squeeze. "Is that why you came here to Jacksonville?"

"Amongst other things."

She doesn't expand and I don't push her.

"So, you said that working at the restaurant is temporary until your career takes off. What exactly do you plan on doing?"

"I was a psychology major."

"Was?"

"Well, am… I am a psychology major; I'm a bit behind, though. I need time to finish some classes and then do my final thesis. Maybe I can get into relationship or family counseling," she explains.

She's beautiful and fucking smart.

"Sparky, that's great," I tell her because it's the truth. It's nice to see a sexy-as-hell woman with brains for once.

I watch as her cheeks blush, something that I'm finding myself liking more and more.

"Thank you. I guess I just want to help people, kind of like my dad did."

"I want you to know that I meant it when I said you could stay here. You need a place, and, well, it would be nice to have someone around. You could stay on part-time at the restaurant while you take your classes, if you want."

"Why are you doing this?" she asks as she looks at me quizzically.

"I guess I just want to help people." I smirk, throwing her words back at her.

We stay on the beach for a while, silently watching the waves crash up onto the shore. A few times I have to stop myself from throwing her into the warm water just so I could see her wet with her clothes drenched against her body. I bet I'd be able to see her perky tits poking through her shirt, her nipples straining against the fabric. However, I don't act on my perverted thoughts, knowing it would just piss her off, and I'm doing everything I can to stay on her good side. She's finally starting to open up to me and let me in.

Eventually, exhaustion starts to set in on both of us and reluctantly we're forced to move. "Come on, roomie, let me show you where you'll be staying." Standing up and following her back to the house, I try my damndest not to stare at her ass.

_**DATLS**_

"_This_ is my room? You have got to be kidding me, Cullen." Bella's eyes are practically bulging out of her head as she takes in the space in front of her. Her room is across the hall from mine. Alice decorated it, so the feminine touch is apparent. The walls are a light gray shade, which makes the room warm and inviting, according to my sister. She even bought a matching bed set in purple to bring out the "ambience" of the room. Whatever the fuck that means.

"Did you decorate this room?"

"Uh, that would be a no. Alice decorated it. She said I needed to have a feminine room just in case I ever had a female guest." I snicker at the memory of that conversation. "But since you are the first, you'll have to tell me what you think of it."

"No one has ever slept in here… ever? No girlfriends?" Her eyes widen as she finishes her sentence.

I rub my hand over the back of my neck, suddenly feeling embarrassed. "Uh… no, no one has stayed in here, and I don't do the girlfriend thing."

"Ever? That's impossible, with a guy like… never mind." Her face flushes as she stutters and walks toward the window.

"So, um the bathroom is behind that door," I tell her as I point to the en suite full bath connected to her room. "And I was thinking that tomorrow, that is, if you want, I could take the day and get you settled. Spend the day getting your stuff in order."

"You would do that for me?"

"Yeah, why not? That's what friends do, right? Help each other out?" The fact of the matter is I don't want to be away from her. I want to spend as much time as I can figuring out this enigma that is Bella Swan. Who is she? But most importantly, why the hell am I so fascinated by her?

Before I can turn to walk out, Bella throws herself into me, wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling me close. Her face, her scent, even her voice invite me in, so I wrap my arms around her body, reveling in how soft she is. My dick on the other hand wants her to know just how hard he is as he salutes to the fact that she's pressed up against me.

"Thank you so much; you're incredible," she breathes in my ear.

_I will not grab her sexy ass and throw her up against the wall._

This is a fight that I'm not winning, so I reluctantly pull away.

"You're welcome, Bella. Sleep well."

"Good night, Edward."

I try not to think about how good my name sounds falling from her mouth as I close the door behind me and make a beeline to my room. Once the door is shut, I rip off my jeans and my cock breathes a sigh of relief. _What the fuck have I done?_ I must be a glutton for punishment, because living with Bella Swan is going to kill me… or my dick.

Chapter end notes:

Up next, what will the morning bring for these two?

Thoughts?

Edward's house: .com/albums/xx267/CarLemon/Down%20At%20The%20Lone%

Twitter: MizzezPattinson, CarLemon


	6. Chapter 6

All plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the author. No copying or reproduction of this work in any language is permitted without the express written authorization of the author. Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. 2011.

_**Thank you to the wonderful Coachlady1, our amazing beta. Check out her story, Intrigue and Intimacy. XO BB**_

Thanks to xrxdanixrx, our Twilighted beta. We love you hun! XO. Run and read her latest story _**Washed Up**_.

_**Big hugs and love to Melee03 for making DATLS a blinkie. She is all kinds of amazing, thank you hun xoxo. You can see her masterpiece if you click the link on our profile.**_

Thanks to all those reading and reviewing. How do things look in the morning for these two? Come, join us.

Chapter 6

_**Edward**_

I barely slept last night, and when I did manage to fall asleep, all I did was dream about Bella. This is so completely out of my fucking element, I'm having a hard time processing it. I roll over to stretch the kinks out of my body, and naturally this is the time that my traitor cock reminds me that he is indeed awake as well.

I have come to the conclusion that there is morning wood and then there is Bella-induced-morning-wood, and it's ten times more painful and raring to go. Falling back onto my pillows, I sigh and slip my hand under my boxers. That simple touch alone nearly makes me cum like a teenager getting felt up for the first time. _This is so fucking ridiculous._

Unlike the fantasy I had of Bella last night, this one has her in my bedroom in nothing but a towel wrapped around her body, still glistening with the remnants of her morning shower. "What are you doing?" I ask in a haze.

"I'm all wet," she tells me as she seductively walks over to the bed. "And I want you to help me dry off."

Holy shit, this is going to be fast. By the time fantasy-Bella has made her way to the bed and crawls overtop of me, I am fisting my cock tight in my hands, imagining her tight pussy, and then it ends, and I'm effectively cumming all over my stomach. "Oh fuck, Bella," I groan.

"Fucking hell." That was the best self-induced orgasm I think I have ever had. It didn't last long, mind you, but it was worth every second. I wipe up the mess with an old t-shirt and grab some clean clothes. I need breakfast, a shower, and round two with fantasy-Bella.

_DATLS_

_**Bella**_

The muted sound of the surf pounding into the shore slowly stirs in my subconscious. Somewhere from high above, the sun is peeking into the room, warm and inviting as I stretch my legs out and revel in the feel of the crisp, clean, non-polyester sheets around me, and for a moment I think I must be dreaming.

There are no paper-thin walls and mystery substances oozing from them. No shouting and slamming of doors. It's quiet and peaceful, and I actually feel rested for the first time in weeks.

I sit up in the bed, opening my eyes to the turquoise ocean and the lazy clouds drifting above it. I wish Charlie could have seen this. He would have loved the ocean, the feel of the spray on his face, maybe some deep-sea fishing.

The thought is a sobering one. I don't want to wallow. He wouldn't have wanted me to. I whip the covers off the bed, and grab my toiletry bag from my backpack, padding my way to the en suite.

I could live in this shower. It's hot, pulsating, and in complete contrast to the cold, sporadic trickle that I was treated to every morning at the Motel 6_. _I spend much longer than I normally would in here, trying to wash away the grime from that hellhole. I guess I shouldn't really complain. There are worse places I could have stayed.

Still, I'm starting to realize that in order to get my life together, I may need to dip into the reserve fund—something I swore would be a last resort.

I need to figure out what to do for school, and let's face it, I can't stay here freeloading off Edward for very long. Even though he says he doesn't _do girlfriends_, having me here will definitely put a cramp in his style. What does that even mean—_I don't do girlfriends? _ Why did he feel the need to even tell me that?

I end the shower and dry off in a thick, soft gray towel. I won't miss the threadbare, dingy white ones at the motel. An involuntary shudder goes through me as I fish out a pair of gray capris and a red t-shirt from my backpack. I think on some level, Edward was right last night when he said I was trying to prove a point. My independent streak in this instance, however, could have actually been dangerous.

Once I finish getting dressed, I lift open the large window letting the breeze from the ocean float in. This is heaven. Pure and simple. I make the bed, smiling at the purple comforter and Edward's rushed explanation of how Alice helped him decorate the room.

The comforter reminds me of my old one. I wish I had kept it. I wish I'd kept a lot of things, but at the time I wasn't thinking about sentimental memories… I wasn't thinking about anything.

I sit on the edge of the bed combing out my hair. I think I'll take a walk on the beach to feel the sun on my face, the wind in my hair, and not be surrounded by a prison of green like I was in Forks. I never used to look at it that way. Not before Charlie died, but now, as I remember what my life became once he passed away, that's exactly what it felt like… a prison of unending sadness, mundane tasks, and numbness.

I know I can't keep dwelling on the past, purple comforters included. I can't change what happened or how I reacted to Charlie's death, but hopefully, I can learn something from it. Everything happens for a reason, right? I sigh as I get up from the bed and open the door, peering across the hall to Edward's room.

_Keep walking, Bella._ But I ignore the logical side of my brain; why start now? I've already gone past logical a long time ago… bolting from Forks with no real plan, driving across the country by myself in a truck that is questionable at best, wandering into a restaurant just because the people looked happy, jumping on the back of his fuck-hot bike and spending the night here. The list seems endless.

I give my head a shake and grip the railing, starting down the stairs. A low and muffled moan, drifting from behind his door stops that plan immediately. I freeze on the stair and move back into the hallway as I linger by the door like some stalker.

I don't hear anything for a minute as my ears strain at his door. Maybe he talks in his sleep or something. But then, I hear it. It's faint and barely audible, but it's there… a distinctive grunt, followed by a long drawn out "fuuucck." Holy shit! Is he seriously in there jacking off?

My hand flies to cover my mouth as I stay rooted in my stealthy spot beside his door. "Fucking hell…" And then, it's quiet. Eerily quiet. My mind conjures up the visual of a sleepy Edward Cullen lying in bed and pumping himself in the morning. That's something I'd like to see. I'm sure my imagination has nothing on the reality. I bang my head against the wall... maybe that will knock some sense into me. I need to get a grip, preferably around him. _Stop it!_

The distinctive click of his door opening sends my heart rate higher as he looks across the hall to my room, running his fingers through his hair. _Shit!_ Then his entire body tenses and he whips around to me as I stand there like an idiot beside his door.

He furrows his brow, his mouth dropping open. "Wha… What are you doing out here?" he squeaks out.

"I was heading down to, um… take a walk, you know, on the beach." _Brilliant as always, Bella._

He cocks an eyebrow, pointing to the stairs and the massive picture window that faces the ocean on the other side of the hallway, his eyes skimming down me. "The beach is that way, Sparky," he says, his voice low and in control.

I'm stunned into silence, my eyes moving up from his distressed jeans that hang off his hips and look way too enticing, to his loose gray t-shirt, and, oh fuck… he hasn't shaved. His stubble only seems to highlight his angular jaw. Holy shit, what a way to wake up.

"Right… yeah. I kind of… I kind of got lost," I stammer, feeling myself flush. God! How did he turn this around to be embarrassing for _me_?

"Well, the hallway can be confusing," he teases, his smirk widening. "Come on." I watch, my heart in my throat, as he coolly makes his way down the stairs.

_DATLS_

I could get used to taking walks on the beach. I carry my canvas shoes in my hands, my toes sinking into the warming sand as I make my way back to Edward's house, watching while a black lab repeatedly retrieves a stick his owner tosses into the ocean.

I feel energized as I take the stairs two at time back up the balcony, sliding open the patio door where I'm assaulted by the sound of sizzling and the enticing smell of eggs cooking.

I drop my shoes at the door and wander toward the kitchen, stopping in my tracks as I see Edward standing at the oven, a spatula in his hands, a checker blue tea towel slung over his shoulder. The man is entirely too attractive.

He lifts his head from the stove, issuing me his quirky, crooked smirk. Yeah, I know I must look like something the cat dragged in. My hair is a winded mess, I have no makeup on, and now I'm staring at him like an idiot. "How was the walk?" he asks.

"Really good. You're so lucky to live here."

He hums a response, turning back to the oven as my eyes linger on the soft, light smattering of hair on his arms. They're strong arms, not ripped and muscular like Jake's were. Jake… there's a reality check. Interesting that he hasn't even called me to see if I'm okay. That says a lot, I think.

"What time is it?"

"Almost eleven," he says, glancing back at me. "I was going to go out there and hunt you down pretty soon." I feel myself flush. That sounds way better than it should.

_DATLS_

_**Edward**_

"How do you like your coffee?" I ask as she enters the kitchen. Her hair is still damp from her shower and a delectable mess from the wind, and I have to fight the images of her naked body, dripping wet from my mind as I flip the veggie omelets that I made for us. _That's right… focus on the eggs, Cullen._

"Two creams and a sugar…what is all this?" she asks, stopping beside the stove.

"Well, this would be breakfast, the most important meal of the day." I smirk at her, enjoying the puzzled look on her face. _You will not fuck her on the counter… you will not fuck her on the counter._

"You didn't have to do this." She huffs as she tries to grab the spatula from me. "Here, let me help you."

I whip the spatula up and out of her reach. "Go and sit your sexy little ass down and relax." I push her away from the counter and steer her toward the stools near the breakfast bar, praying she doesn't pick up on the fact that I just called her sexy. _What the fuck, Cullen? _"Why is it so hard for you to let people do things for you?" That's right… change the subject.

I watch as her eyes soften, and with a sigh, her mouth opens and closes a few times before she looks at me, "I'm sorry. I'm just used to being the one to do things." She shakes her head before she continues. "I never really had anyone looking after me."

I lift her chin up, staring back at her. Fuck, she's gorgeous. "Better get used to it, Sparky. We all look out for each other here."

The way she's looking at me makes me feel like she can see right through me—all my mistakes, all my failed attempts at happiness—as if she can see right to my soul. It scares the shit out of me. The last time I saw anyone look at me like that was Kate, and look at how that ended.

The eggs sizzle from the stovetop, bringing me back to reality, and I drop my hand from her face, moving back to tend to the eggs. Bella Swan may be the most fascinating woman I have ever met, but I can't let her break me. Unfortunately, I sense that it may already be too late.

_DATLS_

_**Bella**_

What the fuck was that? I run my fingers over my chin, where his just were. And men say women are hard to understand? "Coffee?" He nods his head to the counter beside the oven.

"Yeah." I give my head a shake, moving to the intimidating looking chrome device that has way more buttons on it than it should. It's just coffee for fuck's sake. What's wrong with a simple _Mr. Coffee_ machine?

I furrow my brow and look up at him. He chuckles and reaches above me, his t-shirt riding up, revealing a sliver of skin above the waistband of his jeans. Jesus fuck. I shut my eyes and take a deep breath, which does nothing for my resolve because now I can smell him, all spicy and clean and way too fucking tempting.

I open my eyes and try to focus on the coffeemaker as he sets a forest green mug with _Jacksonville U_ written on it under the spout on the coffeemaker, and presses a button.

"Jacksonville U, huh?"

"Go, Dolphins," he says sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"Did you play sports in college?"

"No. Emmett did. He was pretty much a football god on campus with all the usual parties and drunk fests that go along with that." He moves back to the stove, flipping the omelet in the pan like he's done it a thousand times before, smirking at me. "But as soon as he blew out his ACL, those stopped pretty fast. "

"Hmm. So no hot cheerleaders, then." _Real subtle, Bella_.

He chuckles as he expertly slides the omelet onto a black plate at the breakfast bar. "I had plenty of those, Sparky," he says with that sexy smirk designed to kill me.

"I bet you did," I mumble, pouring myself a much-needed coffee.

He snickers and I watch as he returns the pan to the stove and then cuts the large omelet in half. He slides one of the halves onto another plate. "Breakfast is served," he says, sitting down on the stool beside me as I look at him questioningly. "Why are you looking at me like that? I didn't poison it or anything… this time."

I laugh and we both dig in, watching the ocean while we eat. The omelet is amazing. Probably the best I've ever tasted, well, either that or I'm just starving. We eat in silence, in this kitchen that looks like it should be in _Style at Home_ magazine, with its sleek, modern lines and breathtaking views of the beach. If I lived here, I'd never want to leave the house. _But you don't live here… remember that, Bella._

He finishes his breakfast quickly and cocks his head to the side, resting his elbow on the counter and his cheek against the back of his hand, watching me closely like he's bored or something. "When you're done devouring, I want to take you somewhere," he says in amusement.

"I thought we were getting my stuff today."

He waves me off. "We can get your stuff later," he says. "Do you have a sweater or something with you?"

"I still have your hoodie from the other night, will that do?"

He smirks at me smugly. "Yeah… that'll do just fine."

_DATLS_

_**Edward**_

I had almost forgotten about the fact that she has my hoodie. I think back on how she looked wearing it last time. It's five sizes too big for her, and she looks like she's swimming in it, but I still find it sexy as fuck, although I'm sure that would be true for anything she wears… or doesn't wear. I need to stop this.

"Here, let me at least clean up. You cooked, I'll clean, it's only fair," she says, grabbing our plates and heading for the sink.

"Bella… you don't have to clean up."

"How hard is it to work a dishwasher. Really? Let me do this," she argues. Fucking stubborn as hell.

"Fine, I'll be right back," I tell her as I make my way up to my room. I need a breather, a moment to let my head catch up to my hormones.

Throughout breakfast I watched Bella wrap those lips around her fork and moan in approval to her meal. Just like the other night when I made her a snack in the restaurant, my dick was paying attention to every single movement and sound that she made.

This constant state of arousal is definitely becoming a problem, one that needs immediate attention. After this morning's run in, there's no way I'm about to do that again… at least while I know she's awake. Instead, I pick up my cell and dial Rose.

"Hey, E, what do I owe the pleasure of this morning's call to?" Rose answers, sarcastic as always.

"Good morning to you too, Trigger. Listen, I need you to run the Lone Star today. Get Em to help out if you need to. I won't be coming in." _Three… two… one…_

"What the fuck do you mean, you won't be coming in? What the fuck is her name? Seriously, just kick her out… wait, is there a woman at your house? Oh my God, I never thought I'd see the day," she rambles on as I roll my eyes.

"Rose! It's not like that! Listen, I have some things to take care of. Bella is here. She was staying at this rundown shithole and there were cops everywhere last night, it was disgusting."

"Whoa, hold the phone, where did she sleep last night? I bet you kept her company, right?" Rose snickers into the phone.

"Rosalie! For fuck's sake, it's not like that." Well, maybe it is. I shake my head. "She may be new, but she is a part of the crew now, and I would do the same thing for you."

"Edward, there is _nothing_ you can do for me, I mean, your cute and all, but…"

"Seriously, Rose, I'm going to take her down to the college and get her settled. When we have her schedule I'll call you so you can pencil in some part-time shifts for her, end of discussion," I practically growl into the phone.

"Wow, you must really like her."

I drift to the window and watch the waves pound the shoreline. "More than I should," I resign, defeat in my voice.

"Um, okay, I'll hold the fort down, boss; just be careful. I'll talk to you later."

Sitting down on my bed, I replay Rose's words once we're off the phone. Her warning to be careful, as she put it, is a little too late.

_DATLS_

_**Bella**_

Motorcycles are hot. I've come to that conclusion, although it could just be pressing my face into Edward's leather jacket and the feel of his muscles as they flex and tense, making me think that.

This bike is clearly something he loves. I can feel the excitement rolling off him as we take sharp turns on the road and he calls over his shoulder for me to lean with him. _Well, if you say so._ I lean with him, probably further than I need to, enjoying the feel of his body while the Ducati purrs, the wind whipping against us as he passes cars and trucks on the freeway.

He finally turns off the highway and winds his way through a few streets, pulling to a stop where he idles the engine at the edge of a long waterway. I sit back and stretch my arms up. They're kind of stiff from the ride… _I think you mean from hanging onto him so tightly. _

He pushes the visor of his helmet up, turning back to me, his green eyes intense. "You okay?" he asks, sounding out of breath.

"Yeah. That was awesome!"

"Glad you enjoyed it, Sparky."

I lift my visor up, rolling my eyes at him. "What are we doing here? Getting ready to dump my body in the river?"

He laughs, shaking his head. "Not yet. We're taking that." He turns back to the water, pointing in the direction of a massive, white ferry, making its way slowly to the shore.

I whip my helmet off, staring back at the ferry. "We're taking a ferry?"

He turns back to me, his eyes crinkling around the edges and I'm sure he's smirking behind the helmet. "Yep."

I feel myself smile wider. "I've never taken a ferry before."

"Are you afraid?" he asks darkly.

"No, of course not," I fire back at him.

He takes his helmet off, resting it on the handlebars while I try not to get distracted by the heat radiating from his body as we wait. I find myself squirming in the seat and he chuckles. "You should probably stretch your legs. They may be a little shaky from the ride," he suggests in a tone that's reminiscent of the way he barks orders at me at the restaurant.

"I'm fine," I huff in annoyance.

"Suit yourself," he says, leaning forward to rest his arms on the handlebars, his jacket riding up and exposing just a hint of his lower back.

I take a deep breath, shutting my eyes. Yeah, I need to get off this bike before I do something really stupid. Without warning, I swing my leg over the seat, my legs practically vibrating and kind of feeling like Jell-O as I try to take a step.

I stumble back, the gravel on the side of the road twisting under my shoes and for a second I think I'm actually going to fall. Edward watches in amusement, biting down on his lip as he tries not to laugh. Miraculously, I manage not to fall, opting instead to lean against the weathered sign for the ferry.

He leans back on the bike, shaking his head at me. "You make everything so much more interesting," he says smugly.

I lift an eyebrow at him. "I'm glad I can amuse you."

"Oh, you do… frequently."

I chuckle and turn my head to the ferry. Things with Edward just got a little more complicated.

_DATLS_

_**Edward**_

Amelia Island is like paradise wrapped up in a small compact space. It is truly beautiful here, white sand, blue water, and one gorgeous woman named Bella. The ride on the ferry was amusing, Bella in all her glory, wind blowing through her hair, sun on her face. God, I sound like a pussy-whipped fucker with all these feminine thoughts.

When we started out on the bike this morning, I had a plan, a plan that evaporated as soon as I felt her arms wrap around me. Feeling her body mold to mine as I whipped past the university was like nothing I've ever experienced before. I know I'm breaking all the rules here, and the thing of it is I don't even care.

I know this is dangerous, that already I'm starting to feel things I know I shouldn't about someone who I've just met, who works for me. You'd think I would have learned by now, but no. Yeah, there's a lot of fucking things wrong with this, but as I watch her smile and try to keep up with me while we walk down the beach, I'm finding it harder and harder to worry about them.

I lead Bella down to the secluded path I discovered a few years back when I first started coming out to the island. It was after Kate cheated and left, and I just needed a place to bring all my private thoughts.

I was so tired of everyone fawning all over me. With all the, "Are you okay, Edward? Do you need anything, Edward? She wasn't worth it anyway," bullshit that everyone was fussing over, I just needed escape. I found it here.

"This place is incredible," Bella exclaims as she takes in the scenic beauty of the island.

"Yeah, I like to come here and think when I need a break. Since you hadn't seen the ocean until yesterday, of course, I thought that this place might help you bring things into perspective."

"You're too good to me, really. Do you do this for everyone you just meet?"

"No, not at all." Good one, now she's going to think you want into her pants, which will be a complete lie if I try to deny it.

"What if I was a serial killer or something, then what?" she teases.

Before my brain can catch up with my body, I pull her back up against me, my arms encircling her tiny waist. The feel of her against me just adds to my torture. I guess I'm a masochist after all.

I hear her gasp as I hold her close, her breaths faltering from the contact. I inhale her delicious scent. Goddamn perfection. Leaning down, I whisper in her ear, "I think I can take care of myself, Sparky."

"Fuck," she breathes, her words almost lost into the light breeze that surrounded us.

I let my hands linger on her waist as I slowly pull away from her. "We're almost there; come on, let's go."

Bella follows behind me while I lead her to the tiny private beached area near the west side of the island. I can tell that she's lost in her own thoughts as we arrive to our destination. I sit down in the sand, watching her furrow her brow after she sits as if she wants to say something. "Penny for your thoughts, Sparky?"

She looks up at me, contemplating her next words. "What's up with the whole 'no girlfriend' thing?" she blurts out of nowhere.

I huff, shaking my head. "It's not something I like to discuss," I tell her curtly. "No offense, of course, but I don't like rehashing that shit."

"So, I have to trust you, but you can't trust me? Okay, Cullen, I get it now," she teases, looking up at me through her lashes.

"It's not like that." I rub my shoulder against hers in playful way. "It just was a bad time for me, and I don't want to lose my man points." I chuckle and smirk at her.

I swear I hear her mumble something about that not being possible before she carries on with her interrogation. "So, if we stay roomies, I don't have to worry about the walls banging with a parade of late night visitors?" she asks, biting into her juicy bottom lip.

I am slightly mesmerized. Oh, fuck it; I'm completely mesmerized by this woman. "Bella…" I start, tearing my eyes away from her mouth.

"Hey, it's okay, I understand. You're a man and you have needs and whatnot," she cuts me off.

"There isn't anyone. There hasn't been for a while, not since Kate." And now the door is open, and I internally curse myself for my inability to keep my mouth shut. She seems to bring everything out in me.

"Kate?"

"Yeah, Kate." I try to keep the venom out of my voice, but that's a moot point. She stretches her legs out, leaning back on her hands, staring up at me. "We dated in college, she broke my heart, end of story; hence why I refuse to be in a relationship. I will not let myself go through that again."

"You can't close yourself off from the possibility of finding happiness because of one bad relationship. Trust me, I know."

I shake my head at her. "I found the woman that I loved fucking my _friend_ in my own home. The woman who said she loved me and wanted to be with me. I worked my ass off to make her happy and to be able to give her the things that I thought she deserved." I run my hands through my hair. "And now I have to deal with everyone thinking that I'm some sick player because I won't commit to one woman. Do you really have to wonder why?"

Bella stares at me as I unintentionally pour my heart out to her. _Good going, idiot._ No matter how foolish I feel at this very moment, I can't tear my eyes away from her. The look on her face isn't pity, like Rose and Alice give me all the time; it's of understanding and kindness.

She opens her mouth to say something, but I cut her off. "Look, I'm sorry that I unleashed all that on you." I shake my head, running my hands through my hair again. I really have no filter whatsoever with her.

"Don't apologize." She scoots over to sit in front of me, her soft hands pulling my own away from my hair. "I'm happy that you're comfortable talking to me. We _are_ roomies after all," she says with giggle. "It would kind of suck if we couldn't talk to each other."

The look in her eyes spurs something in me that I haven't felt in a long time. It's not lust; desire, perhaps, longing even. Instead of pushing the unwanted feelings aside, I pull her to me so her chest is flush up against mine, reveling in the feel of her body.

She groans softly as I run my nose along her jaw. "You are so fucking gorgeous," I murmur against the skin of her neck.

"What are you doing?" she whispers, her mouth gravitating toward mine.

I furrow my eyebrows because, to be honest, I have no fucking clue what I'm doing. All I know is that I don't want to stop, but I don't want her to run either. "I don't know," I murmur against her lips.

"Please." It's a whisper, a plea, and I grab onto it.

I lean in and kiss her lightly, barely ghosting her lips at all, while my heart beats a mile a minute. Her hands slip up my arms, and wind around my neck, the pull that I have to her is becoming unbearable.

Her lips are so fucking soft, and she tastes sinfully good. Something in the back of my mind registers that I shouldn't be doing this, but before I can stop, Bella leans in and sucks on my bottom lip, urging me on.

Chapter end notes:

Oh dear. Our LSW, pouring his heart out… on the beach.

Thoughts?

Amelia Island-Yes, it does exist: .com/albums/xx267/CarLemon/Down%20At%20The%20Lone%

.com/albums/xx267/CarLemon/Down%20At%20The%20Lone%

The lovely bgwillis1281 has started a forum. Stop by: .?f=44&t=16937&p=1229773&hilit=down+at+the+lone+star&sid=

Twitter: MizzezPattinson, CarLemon, Lonestarward


	7. Chapter 7

All plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the author. No copying or reproduction of this work in any language is permitted without the express written authorization of the author. Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight.

_**Thank you to the wonderful Coachlady1, our amazing beta. Check out her story, A Life Contrived. XO BB**_

Thanks to xrxdanixrx, our Twilighted beta. We love you hun! XO. Run and read her latest story, _Washed Up._

Thanks to all those reading and reviewing. So, a kiss on the beach. Hmmm, let's see where these two take that. Come, join us.

Chapter 7

_**Bella**_

Edward Cullen knows how to kiss. It's mind blowing, actually. His lips are softer than I imagined, gently skimming over mine, my heart hammering, and suddenly, I'm acutely aware that we shouldn't be doing this. No matter how fucking good it feels, we shouldn't be crossing this line.

I pull back, covering my mouth, taking a quick gasp in. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that," I mumble, scrambling away from him and getting up from the sand.

He stares back at me, looking confused. "No… I'm sorry, Sparky. That was just…" He shakes his head as he stand up, rubbing the back of his neck. _See? He thinks it's a mistake, too._

"Let's just… just forget that ever happened, okay? I mean, we're both going through a lot, obviously, and we're emotional, and we just… got carried away." I try to make my rambling sound convincing, but unfortunately, I fail miserably.

"Right. Yeah, um… lunch? We need lunch, I think," he says awkwardly, brushing sand from his jeans and looking down the beach.

"Lunch… yeah, good plan." He smirks, nudging me in the arm, which I take as a silent clue that we're okay. At least that's what I'm telling myself.

_DATLS_

"I never would have taken you for a hamburger girl," he says as we sit at a worn white picnic table, devouring burgers from T-Rays Burger Station. I was skeptical of the place at first, what with it being a converted old gas station, but he was right; the burgers are amazing.

"What do you take me as?" I ask, wiping the corner of my mouth with a napkin. We're back to our playful conversation, the aftermath of the kiss on the beach fading while the afternoon slips away.

"I don't know, like a salad and wine type of girl."

I laugh, taking another bite of the burger. "Oh, I get it. You're used to all those freshmen college girls who just want to spread their salad around on their plate, right?"

"Freshmen college girls?" he asks, smirking.

"Oh come on. I've seen them flocking into the restaurant. Are you telling me you're not the slightest bit interested?"

"Not really."

"Not really? Right." I go for sarcasm. He shrugs his shoulders, chewing on his burger, his tongue darting out to capture a tiny piece of bun stuck to his lip. I try not to stare, but that's getting harder to do. This man is hot; there's no denying it. "Don't all men enjoy that kind of an ego boost, that kind of attention?"

"Not all men, no."

I stare back at him, intrigued. "Well, what are men interested in, then?" Hmm, perhaps he can enlighten me. My entire experience with the opposite sex has been based upon turn of the century British novels and my relationship with Jake, which essentially went from adolescent infatuation to emotionless sex. There has to be more. Perhaps that's why I want to study relationships, because the only one I did have seems extraordinarily lacking.

"Depends," he says evasively.

"On…"

"The mood, whether the Jaguars are playing or not, how long it's been since we've had sex, the weather… a bunch of stuff."

I burst out laughing. "And men say _we're_ complicated." He laughs, running his fingers through his hair. "Don't you just want to have sex, regardless of the weather?" I ask seriously.

His eyes widen for a second as he takes in my question. "We're not all Neanderthals. I mean, don't get me wrong, if I just wanted sex, I'd have it… well, I do have it, it's not like I'm a monk or something, it's just, one-night stands can be tricky."

"What's wrong with one-night stands?"

His smirk widens. "You would know that if you ever had one," he states cockily.

"Are you saying I've never had a one-night stand?"

"You're not the one-night stand type," he says definitively.

"There are types?"

He nods. "Yep. There's the girl-next-door type, who you want to have a relationship with and get to know." He stares back at me, his expression amused. "And then there's the one-night stand type. You're definitely not that."

I narrow my eyes. "That's pretty stereotypical of you, don't you think? Putting women into two categories?" I ask.

He lifts an eyebrow at me. "Have you had a one-night stand, Sparky?" I scowl and shake my head. "I rest my case."

"And which type are _you_? If there are two types of women, there must, by definition, be similar types of men."

He takes a big slurp of Coke from his red plastic straw. "I'm the nice guy," he says smugly.

"But you've had one-night stands."

"Yep."

"I thought you just got finished telling me the nice ones don't have one-night stands."

"The women don't… the men do."

"Why… why is it different? Why can't I have a one-night stand?" The annoyance is clear in my tone.

"Well, technically, you can, but if you did, you'd analyze it, sit and worry about it, come up with a thousand different scenarios on why the guy doesn't call you back." I feel my mouth drop open. "And meanwhile, the whole time the guy is thinking, that was hot, what's next?"

"That's what you think after a one-night stand?"

He nods his head. "Pretty much."

"It never crosses your mind to want to have another date, or something? I mean it can be just as 'hot,' as you say, the second time, right?" I ask.

"No. It's never as hot the second time, and a second date means you're entering relationship territory."

"Really?" I lean forward, utterly fascinated by this revelation. "Isn't a relationship ultimately what a man wants?"

He shakes his head "When you're young and you just want to fuck everything in sight, no," he explains, leaning back in his chair.

"But eventually? I mean you can't stay a one-night-stand guy your whole life, right?"

He shrugs his shoulders, gathering our paper plates from the table and discarding them in the garbage can as I sit reeling and more confused than ever.

_DATLS_

We have walked the length of the beach, the Ducati a welcome sight, waiting in the emptying parking lot while the sun begins its descent. It's been quite the afternoon. We've sat in comfortable silence, watching the ocean, each of us deep in our own thoughts, and we've run the gamut of conversation, from high school experiences to his childhood growing up with Emmett and Alice. They have a close-knit family, and it's making me wish I had a brother or sister. I always thought being an only child was a good thing; now, I'm not so sure.

He's also dropped me a few more words of wisdom on dating and relationships that have only served to raise more questions about him, about men in general. I'm beginning to think I may be getting in over my head trying to tackle something this complicated. I'm going to need some help, some other opinions at the very least. Although Edward is clearly experienced with dating and has his own tarnished opinions on relationships, I'm going to need more evidence, more experience myself before I can ever hope to start a thesis.

I shudder at the thought of dating, if what he has described is even close to reality. Even though I hate to admit it, he was right. I don't do one-night stands. I'll do a hell of a lot of things in the name of research, but that… I just can't see myself doing it.

A thought occurs to me as we make our way to the bike. "So, it never enters your mind to call the woman again?" That would make sense to me; it's kind of like a guarantee for sex a second time. Why wouldn't men want to take advantage of that?

"The woman?" he asks.

"Yeah, the one-night stand."

"Two things, Sparky. First, if it's a one-night stand, I'm not getting her number. I don't want it. Second, if I'm really interested in a woman, I'm sure as fuck not having sex with her on the first day I meet her."

I shake my head. "I was right… guys _are_ more complicated than we are."

"That's impossible," he says, passing me the helmet.

"Are we going back on the ferry?" I ask hopefully.

He shakes his head. "No." My face falls as he straddles the bike. "We can take it again, some other time, if you're good."

"I'm holding you to that, Cullen." I slide onto the seat, shifting close to him, enjoying the feel of his firm body.

"I hope so." He stuffs his helmet on his head and starts up the bike. "Hang on."

My interrogation is forgotten as I wrap my arms around his waist and we take off from Amelia Island.

_DATLS_

"So how long do you stay?" I ask as he leads me up the stairs to his door. Night has fallen and he looks utterly tempting right now, a light breeze ruffling his hair, his cheeks flushed from the ride.

He stops, twirling the keys around his finger, looking at me cautiously. "What are you talking about?"

"The one-night stand? You don't bring women back here, apparently, so how long do you stay with them?"

"What's with the twenty questions, anyway? Planning on revealing all my secrets to the next unsuspecting woman?" he teases, sliding the key into the lock.

I swallow, my heart hammering. _Real brilliant, Bella._ "No… I'm just curious."

He shrugs his shoulders, opening the door and dropping the key into the bowl on the table. "I don't know. That can actually be kind of tricky."

"Tricky?"

"Yeah, I mean, if she falls asleep right away, which they rarely do…" I roll my eyes at him. Jeez, how many women has he slept with? "I can just leave and hope to hell she doesn't wake up," he says casually.

I shake my head. That sounds so heartless, cruel almost. It doesn't seem like him at all. "And if she doesn't fall asleep right away?" I ask, following along as he makes his way into the kitchen.

"Then, it's awkward. I mean, women usually like to cuddle and shit." He hauls open the fridge, peering inside.

I nod. "And cuddling is relationship territory."

He turns from the fridge, smiling at me. "You catch on fast, Sparky."

"So, what, we're talking an hour or something?"

"I don't know, but I've never had any complaints," he says cockily.

"Maybe that's because you've never called them again."

He chuckles. "How long do you like to cuddle after sex?" he asks boldly, pulling out two Coronas from the fridge.

I shake my head, feeling my face flush. "Um… I don't know. I don't really cuddle after… you know."

He stills his movements at the counter and then turns back tome. "You don't?" He sounds shocked.

"Not really. Jake wasn't really a cuddler," I mumble. Wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am, if I was lucky.

He cocks his head to the side. "Huh." Turning back to the counter, he opens the two Coronas and sets one down in front of me. "Oh, lime. Hang on."

I watch as he opens the fridge and leans down… Oh, fuck. His ass in those jeans is entirely too tempting. I turn away, gazing out at the ocean. Part of me is still having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that I'm here, safe and sound away from the motel from hell, with this incredible view and a more incredible man.

"There." I turn back and see him shoving a piece of lime into one of the Corona bottles. He covers the mouth of the bottle with his thumb and then turns it upside down, letting the lime sink to the bottom. He sets the bottle back down on the counter, sucking his thumb into his mouth. It just got a thousand degrees hotter in here.

_DATLS_

_**Edward**_

The look on Bella's face is not helping the situation my pants. Oh fuck, let's face it, with her there's always a situation in my pants. I would love to bend her over the kitchen table, grab a handful of that ass, and remedy my situation, but if I'm being practical, that's not going to happen.

Her questions tonight about one-night stands have me a bit unsettled. Why in the hell does a woman like Bella want to know this kind of stuff? She says it's for research purposes for her schooling, but a part of me, that part being my cock, hopes otherwise.

"How about we stop discussing one-night stands and watch a movie or something?" I ask her in hopes of detouring this whole conversation.

"Um… sure, what did you have in mind?"

"Whatever you want. I have a ton of DVDs; you go choose." I wave my hand toward the entertainment stand, and enjoy the view as she makes her way to it.

"Wow! You sure have a lot of movies," she says, turning back to look at me. "Such a big collection. Have you watched them all?"

I struggle not to make an inappropriate comment about others things that I have that are large; she just makes it too fucking easy. So instead, I smirk. "I've seen most of them, yes."

"Oh! Can we watch this one?" she asks excitedly, holding up _The Notebook_.

Fuck my life.

I watched this with Alice before, and I spent more time consoling her than I did actually watching the movie.

"Umm, sure." I internally groan but manage a smile, which I'm sure looks like a grimace. I grab the Coronas and start toward the stairs.

"Where are you going?"

I stop in my tracks. Oh, shit!

"The DVD player is hooked up upstairs… in my room. The TV is better up there."

I try to gauge her reaction but if she's thinking anything, it doesn't show. Internally, I'm having a mini panic attack. She's going to be in _my _room, most likely in my bed.

There goes rule number one.

No women in my bed.

It seems I'm breaking all the rules when it comes to Bella, but since I'm already going to hell…

I enter my room and immediately make sure that there isn't anything lying around that shouldn't be. I'm not worried about dirty laundry, but I am a man, and every red-blooded man owns porn. I don't have a huge collection, because let's face it, I don't need it, but there are times when it comes in handy, pun intended.

Bella has gone to her room to freshen up and get "comfy" so I decide to do the same. I strip out of the day's clothes down to my black boxer briefs and wonder what the fuck to put on. I decide just to throw a t-shirt on and stay in my boxers. If Bella's going to stay here she might as well get used to seeing me in them, because I rarely wear pajamas.

I open my dresser drawer and rummage around looking for a shirt. A gasp from behind pulls my attention away from the heap of clothes. I raise my eyes to look in the reflection of the dresser mirror and see Bella standing the doorway. Her lips are parted and her eyes are dark and hooded.

I take in her "comfortable" attire, feeling my cock stir. She's standing there in black sleep shorts—if you can even classify them as shorts because they're so small—and a tight tank top. I watch as her nipples harden and poke through the material.

It's taking all my fucking self-control not to throw her down on my bed and fuck her senseless. Our eyes lock on each another, slowly raking in the images before us. The tension in the room has just multiplied; she has to feel it too.

I break the silence first, grabbing a shirt, and holding it in front of me, trying to conceal the tent my dick is pitching.

"You can get in bed. I'll be right there," I mumble as I pass by her to the bathroom.

"Oh… um… yeah, sure, thanks."

Once I'm safe behind the door of the bathroom, I throw the shirt over my head and curse my cock. It's a natural part of being a man, but fuck, she doesn't need to see the effect that she has on me.

I don't want her to get the wrong idea. I like her. I'm attracted to her, and hell yeah, I want to fuck her, but anything beyond that I'm completely incapable of giving her. She has the power to rip my heart out and stomp on my soul, this much I know, based on the pull she already has on me.

Not going to fucking happen.

I brush my teeth quickly and will my cock into submission. When I move back to the bedroom, all the breath is sucked out of my lungs. Bella's curled up under the covers, cuddled up to my pillow, patiently waiting for me.

I can feel my stomach rise up into my throat.

_No! You've worked too damn fucking hard to ever let this happen again. _

She looks over her shoulder and smiles. "You ready?"

I exhale and push all the feelings I have aside. "Sure am, Sparky."

I pull the covers back and slide into my bed. I prop myself up on the pillows and keep a safe distance away from Bella. If I touch her now, I won't be able to stop.

_Fuck, her skin looks so soft. _

Reaching over, I turn off the nightstand light and press play on the remote. I will all of the day's thoughts to the back of my mind. All the talk about one-night stands, the kiss we shared, and all the thoughts I have about this beautiful woman in _my_ bed. I turn and face the screen, praying to God that I survive.

_DATLS_

_**Bella**_

Normally, I have good ideas. This was not one of them.

I thought picking _The Notebook_ would tell me a lot about Edward. It's one of _the_ ultimate chick flicks, guaranteed to show a man's true colors as he either curses the movie, rolling his eyes and praying for it to be over, or uses the opportunity to console you while you cry your eyes out on his shoulder, earning him bonus points.

I didn't bank on Edward's bedroom for the viewing, and I sure as hell didn't bank on seeing him shirtless. That visual will be with me for an extremely long time. The muscles of his back flexing, the little mole on his neck, his toned abs reflected in the mirror, the planes of his hard chest… the chest I'm currently trying desperately not to put my head on.

This couldn't be any more awkward. Edward and I with our backs pressed up against the headboard of _his bed_, our legs stretched out poker straight in front of us, the covers pulled up around our waists while I fight the battle between bursting into sobs and attacking him.

He sips his Corona, his jaw set, his face emotionless, giving absolutely nothing away while the air crackles between us.

Finally, I can't take the silence anymore. "Do you think this kind of love exists?" I ask while Noah starts to read to Allie.

"Huh?" he asks, turning from the screen, the stubble on his face highlighted from the glow of the TV.

"You know, all-consuming, surviving no matter what?"

"I used to think so," he says, setting his empty beer bottle on the nightstand.

"But you don't, anymore?" I press.

"I think it's a little unrealistic. People are never this genuine." He waves his hand at the TV and scowls.

"Well, he _did_ sleep with another woman, and she _did_ almost marry another guy, and yet, they still get back together. Doesn't that say something?"

"Love conquers all, right? That's a crock of shit," he fires back at me.

"Love can't conquer all?"

He sighs deeply. "Not always, no."

"Hence the reason you don't want a relationship. You're afraid of getting hurt again."

"Something like that," he mumbles, turning back to the screen.

"So what are we, then?"

His eyes dart to me and then back to the movie. "We're, um… friends."

"A friendship is a relationship."

"You know what I mean, Sparky," he snaps, leveling me a serious look.

I nod, taking a long sip from the Corona bottle. "I can't imagine having a connection like these two." I nod my head to the screen.

"You didn't have that with that Jake guy?"

I huff. "He was my first love, but no, we never had anything like this. Actually, I'm pretty sure he's glad I left."

He turns his attention back to me. "Bella…"

I wave him off. "It's not important. I'm hungry, are you hungry? Let's order something," I ramble, whipping the covers off and trying to climb out of bed.

His arms wrap around my waist, stopping my movements, pulling me back beside him— back to his extremely firm, and inviting chest.

"I told you about Kate. You tell me about Jake. That's what friends do," he urges.

I push my hair out of my face, staring back at him. "I'm sure you don't want to hear about it."

"How about you let me decide that." I shake my head at him. "Come on, it'll feel good to get it off your chest," he pushes.

I lift an eyebrow at him. "You didn't tell me you took psych courses."

"It was an elective. Psych 101. I sat beside a hot girl who wore low-cut shirts to show off her fake boob job," he explains, smirking at me.

"I'll be you enjoyed that."

"I most certainly did." His smirk fades as he waits.

"Okay, but if this is the road we're going down, I'm going to need more of these." I hold up the Corona bottle. "And food."

"Anything for you, Sparky."

_DATLS_

"Did you just steal one of my balls?" Edward asks, his chopsticks stilling over the cardboard take out container.

"I like my balls. What can I say?" I pop a sweet and sour chicken ball into my mouth, lifting my eyebrows at him.

"Jesus," he grumbles, shaking his head, and digging back into a container of vegetable teriyaki.

We're currently sitting cross-legged on the bed with more Chinese takeout spread out in front of us than two people could ever eat. _The Notebook_ has long been forgotten, turned down to a dull roar as I try to explain my fucked-up failed relationship with Jake.

It's a surreal experience. I've never talked to anyone about it, and like always, talking about Jake makes me miss Charlie. It also makes me realize how alone I really was in Forks. Sure, I had acquaintances, people I went to school with, along with Jake's friends, but I never really had anyone I could honestly share this with.

Edward just listens, providing the occasional raised eyebrow and headshake while we try to make a dent in the Chinese food. I'm actually pretty proud of the fact that I've only cried twice; both times quickly remedied when he stuck a chopstick full of chow mein into my mouth.

"Can I be honest with you? As a guy?"

"Have you been pretending to be a girl this whole time?" I ask, smirking.

"Shut up." He throws a fortune cookie at me. "Jake probably thought he was doing the right thing. You know, taking care of you, helping when your dad died. The last thing a guy wants is to see is his girlfriend upset. And then, it just became like a pattern with you two. He kept you busy and you weren't as upset."

"So you're saying this whole thing is _my_ fault?" I ask.

"No, what I'm saying is, most guys don't deal with emotional shit very well. And whether Jake was avoiding all of your problems because he was afraid, or whether he was just trying not to rock the boat, I don't think he treated you like shit on purpose." I stare back at him. I'm not sure what I was expecting from him, but it definitely wasn't that. "People change, Bella. They drift apart, they want different things, different people…" His voice trails while he stirs his chopsticks in the container.

I turn the fortune cookie around in my hand. "I'm sorry she hurt you."

He huffs, shaking his head. "It's better I found out when I did. Imagine if I would have married her." He leaves the chopsticks in the container and takes a sip of Corona. "Everything happens for a reason, Sparky."

I nod in agreement. "We'll have to keep reminding each other of that."

"Deal." He clinks his bottle with mine and we both take a long sip, my lime sliding up the neck of the bottle.

I set the bottle back down on the nightstand, and watch as he does the same. I'm emotionally exhausted. This last couple of hours has been draining, for both of us, I think, and I'm sure he wants nothing more than to just stretch out in bed and go to sleep. And I… I need to get out his room, and out of his bed.

"I should clean this up." I drop the fortune cookie to the bed, reaching forward to start to collect the containers in front of me. His hand covers mine and he squeezes it gently.

"_We'll_ clean this up. After we read our fortunes," he says. My eyes dart to his fingers while he trails them over mine.

I can't stop the smile that fills my face. "Okay." I sit back down, picking up my fortune cookie. "You go first."

He rubs his hands together dramatically before cracking the cookie open. He chuckles, shaking his head before turning it around to show me.

"Plan for many pleasures ahead," he says, cocking his head to the side.

_Fuck._ I feel myself blush as my mind automatically falls into the gutter and I start laughing. He pops the cookie into his mouth, crunching it up, his tongue darting out to get a crumb on the side of his mouth, and my laughing stops immediately.

I look away from him, breaking open the cookie and smiling to myself.

"Well?" he asks, leaning forward to try to see the fortune. I whip it away from him, clutching it to my chest while he laughs at me.

"You will travel to many places."

"Nice," he says, swiping half of the cookie from hand and shoving it into his mouth.

"Hey! That's my fortune cookie," I complain, narrowing my eyes at him.

"You snooze, you lose, Sparky," he says with his mouth full.

I shake my head at him and start the clean-up process.

_DATLS_

"Oh, my buddy James is going to come by and take a look at your beast tomorrow," Edward says while I hand him an armful of Coronas in the kitchen.

_Jesus, did we really drink this many?_

His fingers gently skim the side of my breast as he collects them from me, and I take a sharp breath in. "Shit. Sorry," he mumbles, his eyes fixed on my chest.

"No, you're not," I challenge, trying to hide my smirk.

His mouth drops open, the color draining from his face. "What? Um… I didn't mean to—"

I slap him on the back. "Relax, Cullen. It's alright. They tend to get in the way." I turn on my heel, heading to the refrigerator to deal with the remnants of the takeout.

I hear him mutter unintelligibly under his breath while he makes his way to the garage with the empties. I laugh, consolidating the leftovers and getting rid of the empty containers.

I find him leaning against the island, watching me with an amused look on his face when I turn around from the fridge.

I mirror his stance on the other side of the island. "Thanks for tonight… for listening. I promise to try and not go all girly on you, again," I say, struggling to hang on to the last thread of composure I have. I've done pretty well tonight keeping the tears at bay, but now I feel the weight of the night start to overtake me.

"You can go girly on me anytime you want."

I feel the heat rise in my face while I study the granite countertop. "I should probably go to bed. I'm sure my boss has some killer schedule for me tomorrow."

He chuckles. "We'll get the rest of your stuff from the hotel in the morning. I'll ask Emmett to meet us there."

And with that, I feel the thread snap and the tears fall. Edward has been so good to me. He's given me a job, invited me into his home when I didn't have anywhere to go, he's let me pour my heart out, and now he's enlisting his family to help me.

He's around to my side of the island quickly, his arms wrapping around me while he holds me against his chest. "Hey, hey. What's going on?" he asks while my tears sting his t-shirt.

"Thank you," I choke, my throat constricting as my arms encircle his waist. "Just… thank you."

He strokes my hair while I sink into his chest, breathing him in. "It's not a big deal, Bella," he whispers into my hair.

I pull back and stare up at him. "It's a very big deal." We stare at each other in silence, his eyes moving from mine to my lips and back again, his fingers brushing the hair from my face while my heart hammers.

"Bella…"

I drop my arms from his waist and back away from him. No matter how good he feels, no matter what I know I'm starting to feel for him, right now, I'm an emotional wreck. Quite honestly, so is he, and I don't want to ruin this. He's the only friend I have. That's what he said we are… friends.

He furrows his brow slightly, his eyes searching mine while I take another step back.

"I'm going to go to bed. I'll see you in the morning," I manage to say.

"Okay," he breathes.

And I leave him, sprinting up the stairs and shutting the door to my room where I let the tears fall, again.

Chapter end notes:

Thoughts?

Do yourself a favor and watch _The Notebook_. Yeah, yeah, you've watched it a million times. Do it again! Preferably with Chinese food and a really good friend.

Twitter: MizzezPattinson, CarLemon, Lonestarward


	8. Chapter 8

All plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the author. No copying or reproduction of this work in any language is permitted without the express written authorization of the author. Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. 2011.

_**Thank you for your patience...RL can be a pain sometimes. Thank you all for the reviews, we read each and every single one. xoxo**_

_**Thank you to the wonderful Coachlady1, our amazing beta. Check out her story, A life Contrived. XO BB**_

Thanks to xrxdanixrx, our Twilighted beta. We love you hun! XO. Run and read her latest story _**Washed Up**_.

Thanks to all those reading and reviewing. How do things look in the morning for these two? Come, join us.

Chapter 8

_**Edward**_

I roll over and groan. The sun is coming through the window, showcasing another beautiful, hot day. It's a good thing considering Bella and I have a lot of running around to do today. A wet Bella on the Ducati, while sexy as fuck, doesn't get us a whole lot done in terms of getting her settled.

_Bella. _

Her scent is all over my bed and my pillow. She smells so fucking good, edible even. I have to admit, it felt really good to have spent the evening with her the way we did. The best part of the night was not the dreaded _Notebook_ movie, oh hell no, it was having Bella's little body next to mine in my bed.

As much as I really want to remain in bed and continue my thoughts about her, which will no doubt lead to my cock in my hand yet again, I can't. We need to get a move on if we want to accomplish everything today.

First, I have to call James and get him down here to look at Bella's truck. Then we have to make our way over to the University and get her registered for classes.

At some point, I'll have to make my way down to the Lone Star and straighten things up there. Rose can handle the responsibilities, but I don't want to push my luck. I also have to deal with Alice. She's going to rip my balls off once word of my "roommate" gets out.

Note to self: Make sure Jasper is in the room.

I forego the morning jerk off and make my way to the shower.

_-DATLS-_

Freshly showered and ready to find Bella, I rifle through my dresser and pull out a gray t-shirt. Just as I pull it over my head, I hear a gasp from behind me. I turn to find a wide-eyed Bella standing in my doorway, bottom lip planted firmly between her teeth. Her big, brown eyes are roaming over my body, and I can feel the heat of her stare.

I raise a brow and smirk at her. "Good morning," I say, purposely flexing my abs because I just can't resist that shit. The blush that I lo—_like_ is painted across her cheeks.

"Oh, um, yeah," she squeaks. "I'll just wait for you downstairs." With that, she turns in haste and disappears into the hallway.

I shake my head and chuckle. The fact that I can affect her boosts my ego. Let's face it; every man likes to have his ego stroked… stroking… Bella… fuck. I will my cock into submission. It's going to be a long day.

When I get to the kitchen, I can smell coffee brewing and I hear the toaster pop.

"What are you doing there, Sparky?" I ask her, leaning against the counter.

"I just thought I would make you a little something. I know it's not much," she mumbles, not turning to face me.

"Thanks. It's perfect," I tell her honestly, as she places a plate of toast in front of me with a cup of coffee.

I take a bite of the toast and sip my coffee.

"So, I'll give James a call soon and see what we can do for that beast of yours. Then if you want, we can head down to the University and see what your options are there."

"Edward." She finally turns and leans against the counter, facing me. "I just want to tell you again that this means a lot to me, everything that you're doing, just… thanks."

"I told you, it's not a problem. I would do this for any of my friends." I smile at her before taking another sip.

I leave out the part that I most likely would do this for one of the guys, no problem, but she's the first woman that I'd jump over the moon for. She deserves this, however, after everything she told me about this Jake fucker. I have no idea how she ever put up with a schmuck like that.

_-DATLS-_

I place my cell phone on the nightstand. James being the fucking great guy he is, has agreed to look at Bella's truck, and even offered to tow it into the shop, free of charge. His interest in the woman that is now living with me, however, makes my stomach turn.

"_Edward fucking Cullen has a woman in his house. I can't believe it, bud." James laughs into the phone. "Tell you what, I'll come down there and tow the truck myself, on the house. I can't pass up this opportunity, man." _

_I laugh at his teasing, but in all honesty, it makes me nervous. "James, I told you, she's just my roommate, and works down at the Lone Star. We're not… she and I… she's single, man," I ramble like an idiot._

"_Does she know this, Eddie?" James questions._

"_Of course she knows. I just want to help her out. She's special, okay."_

_He chuckles. "Uh huh, okay. So, is she hot?"_

"_She is," I answer. This conversation is not heading the direction that I'd like, but I'm not going to let him know that._

"_And you won't care if I find her attractive and ask her out?" _

_I clench my jaw, and push down the nasty feeling in my chest. _

_Lie to him._

"_No. Why would I care?" I ask, trying not to sound like I give a shit._

"_Keep telling yourself that, buddy. I'll go pick up her truck and tow it to shop. You can drop by later this morning and I'll let you know what the damage is."_

_I'd like to tell him to forget the whole thing, but James is the best mechanic I know. If anyone can fix that hunk of junk she's driving, it's him._

"_Sounds like a plan. See you in a bit."_

"_Sure thing, bud. See you soon."_

I know James is just pushing my buttons. He's a "relationship" kind of guy. He's never entered the dating game with just sex on his mind. From what I know, he's never had trouble with women in his bed, but he'd much rather have a meaningful relationship with them.

His last relationship was with Vicki. They were together for a few years but he wanted marriage and she didn't. At least she had the balls to be up front with him. They're still really good friends to this day.

I make my way back downstairs and into the living room, seeing Bella sitting on the couch flipping through the channels on the TV, her legs curled up under her, the fingers on her free hand playing idly with a wayward strand of her hair. Why is it that the simple things she does turn me on so much?

_Keep it cool, Cullen._

I clear my throat, plopping down in the chair beside the couch. "Hey, so I called my buddy, James. He's going to tow your beast to his garage and have a look."

"Hey! Don't hate on the truck," she says, laughing. "I can't wait to have it back." Her laughter fades as she starts to fidget nervously with the hem of her shirt. "I won't be able to pay him for any of the work until I get a few paychecks. I hope he won't mind."

She looks at me with those big, brown eyes and I fight the urge to launch myself from the chair at her. I turn my attention to whatever mindless talk show is on, trying to calm the fuck down.

"It won't be a problem. James is an understanding guy, plus, he knows where you're staying and where you work, so I wouldn't count on there being an issue," I explain to her.

She nods and uncurls herself from the couch, standing to stretch, which does nothing for the hard-on threatening in my jeans. Her ass is encased in a pair of jeans that hang low on her hips and her plain v-neck t-shirt rides up her stomach slightly as she looks back at me.

"You coming?" she asks innocently, heading to the door.

I stifle a groan and shift in the chair. Long. Fucking. Day.

_-DATLS-_

_**Bella**_

I bury my head into the black leather of Edward's jacket and hold on—tighter than I know I need to as we wind our way through the streets.

How I managed to walk away from him last night is something of a minor miracle, but I know I did the right thing. No matter how tempting Edward may be, no matter how he makes me feel, getting involved with someone right now would definitely not be the best move on my part.

I have a litany of issues to work through that I'm only just starting to scratch the surface on.

As we slow down and pull into a busy parking lot, I reluctantly uncoil myself from his body and lean back, looking up at the glass and brick building in the distance through the visor on the helmet.

A new university… a new beginning. You _can_ start over, right?

_-DATLS-_

Edward Cullen is a charmer. This much I now know. He casually leans against the desk beside me, coaxing information from the receptionist whose black tank top is a size too small for her plastically enhanced boobs. And the shocking thing is, she's giving him everything he's asking for including her number, I'm sure.

It is the year 2011 and still, here we are, a sexy as hell man, getting everything he wants by using his low, and disarmingly attractive voice. It's quite something to watch. I wonder if I was… I look down at the gold-plated pin fixed just above one silicone breast… Jessica, if I'd be giggling like an idiot and practically throwing myself at him.

He chuckles at something I didn't even hear and pulls a thin stack of papers from her hand, turning his attention back to me.

"I think we have everything we need, Sparky," he says, handing the papers to me.

"We do?" I ask, furrowing my brow and looking at the form on the top of the pile that reads _Application for Transfer_.

He smirks and nods, looking pretty damn proud of himself.

"That's it?" I glance back to Jessica who is not so discreetly checking out Edward's ass. "I just fill these out and I can transfer all of my credits?"

She rolls her eyes, whipping her head to me. "Well, no. That's the first part. Once you complete the forms, then we'll schedule an appointment for you to talk with the Dean of the Faculty. She makes the final decision on which… if any… credits get transferred. It depends on your grades," she says dryly, lifting an eyebrow as if she thinks it's impossible that I'd have high enough grades to be allowed to transfer to her precious university. You have no idea, sister.

I level her a stare before seating myself into one of the black waiting chairs and starting on the stack of forms.

Just over an hour later with an appointment to meet the Dean set for next week, we leave. Edward sets his hand on the small of my back as we make our way back to the parking lot.

It feels dangerously comforting and that alone scares the hell out of me. I know that getting attached to Edward would be a massive mistake. Unfortunately, he's making it extremely hard not to do just that.

_-DATLS-_

The ride this time doesn't last long, and before I know it, Edward slows down and stops in front of a small garage bay door.

He sets the kickstand and I reluctantly release my grip from around his waist, sliding off the seat. I glance at the worn diner across the road that has seen better days. It reminds me of the Carver Cafe back in Forks, and I immediately get an odd craving for peach cobbler.

I slip off the helmet and stare at the diner, feeling a small smile take over. I detested that restaurant, and badgered Dad constantly about why he would choose to eat there. Steak and peach cobbler was his favorite. I'd give anything to be able to sit with him again and listen to his weak arguments on why he thought it was good for him.

Edward's hand waving in front of me brings me back to reality. "Earth to Bella?" He smirks, taking the helmet from my hand and setting it on the handle bar. "You okay, there?"

I nod quickly, turning my attention to the garage bay door and the broken down cars that sit beside it in varying states of disarray. I spot the hood of my truck propped open inside the garage and move closer to the door.

Peering through the window, my eyes fall to a faded pair of jeans that hang dangerously low on a man I need to see more of. My eyes travel up his frayed blue shirt to his arms—currently flexing, I may add—and to the bottom of a tattoo I can just see peaking out from his sleeve on his bicep.

Holy fuck.

My momentary gawking is ended abruptly as Edward knocks loudly on the window beside me, causing me to jump and whip my head in his direction.

"Jesus, Cullen!"

"Getting a good look?" He smirks, his eyes quickly narrowing as the garage door creaks and rises.

Any attempt at a come back is thwarted as the deep voice that belongs to said mechanic drifts to us. "This must be the beautiful lady that you were talking about," he announces as he makes his way toward us, wiping his hands with a graying rag before extending one. "I'm James Hunter."

His warm hand slides into mine, gripping it firmly as I stare back into deep, blue eyes. A lazy smile plays across his lips as he tilts his head, lifting his eyebrows to me. His hair is disheveled and his features are rugged and distinctive, highlighted by time spent in the Florida sun. "And you would be…?" he prompts, his hand still holding mine.

_Pull it together, Bella!_ _He's just a man… an extremely hot man, but just a man._

"Bella Swan." I have no idea how the words come out of my mouth. "It's nice to meet you."

"The pleasure is all mine." he says sincerely, holding my gaze before releasing his grip and turning to Edward. "How are you, man?" He claps Edward on the back, tucking the rag into his back pocket, and I watch briefly as they exchange some man greeting.

I somehow find the ability to move to the hood of the truck as they start a discussion about how business is going. I stare under the hood, hoping whatever is wrong isn't serious.

I know I wouldn't be able to handle something happening to my truck. It's the only tangible thing I have left from Charlie, the one thing that will always remind me where I came from. The dent in the fender from when he tried to teach me to parallel park and I ran into a van. The crisscrossed chains still sitting in the back that he put on the tires every year before winter. The passenger side window that always sticks. Charlie said he would fix it one day, but that day never came.

I feel my throat tighten as all the memories associated with what Edward refers to as my "beast," come flying back. I take a deep breath and turn around to face them.

"Can you fix it?" I ask, my voice a little shaky.

They both turn their heads to me, their conversation now ended, and James moves toward the exposed engine.

"I'm pretty sure I can," he answers, tapping on some aging black rectangular box. "You need a new battery. This one is toast."

I nod. "And that's it? Just the battery?" I ask hopefully.

He furrows his brow. "The spark plugs should probably be replaced at the same time. It'll be good as new once I'm done with it," he says, turning to me.

"How long do you think that will take?" I ask.

"Not long. I've got a few appointments booked ahead of you today, but I should have it done tomorrow."

"Really? That soon?" I ask, feeling relief course through me. At least now I can be somewhat independent and not rely on Edward to take me everywhere.

I glance behind James to Edward who has moved to the hood of the truck and is focused clearly on the engine, his jaw set, his expression serious.

James chuckles. "Yeah, that soon." He leans toward me slightly. "I kind of know what I'm doing."

"Well, that's good. I wouldn't want just anyone working on my truck," I fire back at him.

He smirks and nods. "Well, I'm definitely not just anyone, Bella."

"I can see that." The words leave my mouth before I have a chance to stop them.

His smirk widens as he leans against the hood. "How about I call you when it's ready tomorrow?" he asks, his eyes never leaving mine. "Or I could drop it off at Edward's when it's done."

"Oh, you don't have to do that."

"No. You don't," Edward says dryly, removing his cell phone from the inner pocket of his jacket and stalking out of the garage. He starts pacing in front of the bike, holding the phone to his ear.

I furrow my brow, turning back to James. "I can come pick it up when it's done. That's probably easier."

"It's a date," he says firmly, causing my eyes to widen.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm teasing. When I ask you out, I'll do it properly," he says, smirking.

I lean against the hood of the truck. "_When _you ask me? And there are proper ways?"

He chuckles and grins. "Who have you been dating? Of course there are."

"And those would be?" I prompt.

He laughs. "Oh, I can't reveal those," he teases, leaning toward me slightly. "You'll just have to wait and find out for yourself."

"Ahh. Got it. Part of the _Guy Handbook_." This could be interesting. I glance at his angular profile where a faint stubble is making an appearance. This could be very, very interesting.

"Something like that," he replies, smirking and staring back at me as I feel the anticipation hang in the air.

"We need to go." Edward's voice echoes through the garage as he levels me a mini glare from beside the bike.

I push off the hood of the truck and start toward him. "Oh. Okay. Is everything alright?"

"Yeah. Just stuff at the restaurant I need to take care of," he barks.

I nod, taking the helmet as he thrusts it out to me.

"Thanks again, James. I'm glad you had time to take a look at the truck," Edward says, jamming the helmet on his head as he straddles the bike.

"So am I," James says, his eyes focused on mine. "Very glad."

I feel the heat rise in my cheeks and quickly slip the helmet on, climbing onto the bike as the engine roars to life.

Edward revs the engine, taking off like a shot down the street before I even have a chance to say another word. He winds around the corner at the end of the street, accelerating like a bat out of hell. I tighten my grip around his waist as the wind whips around me.

This is not like the rides we've taken before. Gone is the casual and relaxing feeling, replaced with something more urgent, tense even. His body stiffens as he weaves between cars on the highway, like he's on some mission or something.

My repeated attempts to ask that he slow down are met with silence and a revving of the engine almost as if he's deliberately trying to piss me off. His erratic driving is met with a few horns and shouts from open car windows as the pavement becomes a blur beneath me.

By the time he whips in behind the restaurant and screeches to a halt, my heart is in my throat, my fingers white knuckled around his waist.

He sets the kickstand, cutting the engine, and I practically fly off the seat as if it's on fire.

I whip the helmet off and glare at him. "What the fuck was that?"

He slips off the bike, removing his helmet and offering me his patented smirk. "What was what?"

"That! You, driving like a lunatic?"

"Not a fan of speed, Sparky?" he asks, his jaw set.

I narrow my eyes at him. "Listen, Cullen, you may have a death wish, but I for one would like to stick around for a while longer."

"Dramatic much?" he asks, brushing past me and heading to the back entrance of the restaurant.

"Asshole much?" I fire back at him.

He levels me a glare as he fishes his keys from his jacket pocket and unlocks the back door.

"You're here in one piece, aren't you?" He whips open the door, holding it and quirking an eyebrow to me. "After you, Sparky."

My blood boils as we stare at each other in a silent, heated exchange. I've never met anyone as infuriating as he is. I'd like to wipe that smug look off his face. Who the fuck does he think he is?

As the muted sounds from the restaurant drift to me, a thought suddenly dawns on me. His reaction at the garage, the insane drive, his seemingly split personality now… could Edward Cullen be jealous?

I hold his intense gaze, moving to the door, never breaking eye contact. I squeeze between the door and his torso, hyper aware of how close he is as my heart races.

I see his glare soften slightly as he stares down at me, his lips parting slightly as if he wants to say something.

I lift an eyebrow and cock my head to the side. If he thinks I'm letting him get the last word in on this one, he's insane. "Grow up, Cullen." I stare back at him, silently daring him for a come back.

But instead of the snarky comment I'm expecting, he takes a sharp breath in. "Bella… I'm—"

I shake my head and brush past him, focusing on the doors to the kitchen. I need to get some distance from him before I say something I'm going to really regret. The scary thing is, part of me wants him to follow me. The slamming of the back door that echoes through the restaurant tells me that's not going to happen any time soon.

_-DATLS-_

"Sparky! Table eight needs to be cleaned."

"Do you think you can handle a whole two drinks without dropping them?"

"Somebody ring the cowbell… she got the table right."

I'll tell you what I'd like to do with that cowbell right now and let me tell you it's not ringing it.

Two hours have passed and Edward is back to being all business, serving up drinks at the bar, barking orders, and enjoying it all just a little too much.

I mutter under my breath as I refill the Corona salt and pepper shakers at table eight… or it could be table nineteen. I have no fucking idea.

"You doing okay, there, Bella?" Emmett asks, plunking down at the booth and tipping his cowboy hat at me.

"You mean Sparky?" I tease, spilling some salt on the table.

He chuckles, unhooking a small red and white checked towel from the belt loop of his jeans and starts to wipe the table. "Well, that name does kind of suit you," he says.

I roll my eyes. "And God forbid we should use our real names."

He laughs, flashing his dimples at me while he continues to help me clean the table.

"So, has your brother always had multiple personalities or is that something recent?" I ask, trying to sound serious.

Emmett bursts out laughing, a sound that vibrates off the wooden walls, causing everyone in the restaurant to turn their heads to us. Edward stops only for a moment, smirking before returning to entertain the freshmen girls and their unending tequila shots at the bar.

"Took you long enough to figure that one out. And here we all thought you were smart," he teases, chuckling to himself before looking back at me. "Listen, Edward may not do things the way everybody else does, and Lord knows he can be as stubborn as an ox, but his heart is always in the right place."

He leans toward me, motioning for me to come closer. I lean forward and his playful expression shifts. "And he may be just a little bit lost."

I furrow my brow. "Lost?"

He nods, standing up from the booth. "That or just plain crazy." He laughs again, adjusting his cowboy hat and moving to the bar, singing along at the top of his lungs to the Keith Urban song that blasts out from the speakers.

I lean against the table and watch as Emmett and Edward flirt shamelessly with the college girls at the bar who are all too eager to giggle away at their every word.

I'm starting to wonder if this thesis idea of mine is way over my head. Relationships… men… I don't think I'll ever understand either one.

_-DATLS-_

_**Edward**_

I know I've acted like an asshole today. I don't know what the fuck is wrong with me. Watching Bella and James innocently introduce themselves at the garage made my fucking blood boil.

The last time I felt anything remotely close to this was when I found Garrett and Kate in our bed… I slump forward in the chair at my desk, my forehead in my hands.

I never should have opened up to Bella about what happened with Kate. I've been doing everything possible to keep that part of my life where it belongs—dead and buried. But I just had to fucking tell her everything and now it's like the wound is split wide open again.

I know this is ridiculous. I have no right to feel this way about a woman I barely know who was only being polite… and flirty. Let's not forget that. She did flirt with him.

"Fuck!" I push back from the desk in frustration as the reality of the situation hits me. I'm jealous. I'm jealous of something that may not ever happen, but just the thought of Bella with James… with anyone for that matter, is making me fucking crazy.

I take a deep breath and give my head a much needed shake. I need to stop this shit. I have a restaurant to run and I need to feel some sort of normalcy again.

I whip open the door to my office and make my back to the bar, wondering if there's such a thing as normal where Bella Swan is involved.


	9. Chapter 9

All plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the author. No copying or reproduction of this work in any language is permitted without the express written authorization of the author. Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight.

_**Thank you to the wonderful Coachlady1, our amazing beta. *bedazzled hugs***_

Thanks to robbsweetangel, our Twilighted beta. We love you hun! XO.

_**Apologies for the extensive wait. RL issues and priorities can be a pain in the ass!**_

_**The wait is over and we are back on track, things are about to get interesting around here.**_

Thanks to all those reading and reviewing. Come, join us as LSW continues.

Chapter 9

_**Edward**_

I can't wait for this fucking night to end.

The Lone Star is packed, not that I should complain, and like an idiot, I had to go and give Bella the night off. Her presence over the last few days has slowly been making things run a lot smoother than I had anticipated. She caught on fast once she learned the difference between table five and fourteen. Unfortunately, for my sorry ass, tonight is her "date" with James.

I've been on edge all fucking day.

I offered this morning to drive Bella to the restaurant in order to meet up with James. I plead insanity on that, and shake my head as the memory of the conversation we had before we left for the restaurant drifts back to me.

She was typing away on her laptop in the kitchen, looking very much at home when I got out of the shower and wandered down for a drink.

"Sparky, shouldn't you be getting ready for your hot date?" I called out to her, masking my sarcasm.

"I am! Geez, I just have to finish this up." She waved her hand dismissively at me over her shoulder.

"Don't women need like three hours to get ready? You better move your ass." I chuckled as I opened the fridge to get a bottle of water.

Bella has been working her spectacular ass off since she arrived in Jacksonville—at work, on the computer, and evidently, in my life. She is completely dedicated to getting started on her transfer, and I admire her for that. The stars must have been aligned when we drove down to the college to get her registered. The application fees were the only roadblock standing in her way, so I slid my _Visa_ to the plastically enhanced clerk behind the transfer desk, and added the amount to Bella's "tab" as she calls it. Mind you, I would never make her pay any of it back, but she doesn't have to know that part.

I could hear her mumble under her breath, as she closed up her laptop and huffed toward the stairs. "Relax, wingman, I won't be long," she called, disappearing to the second floor.

Wingman. I rolled my eyes as I opened the bottle of the water. I've essentially pushed her right into James' eager arms. He is great guy, mind you, has managed to fix her beast of a vehicle, and I could tell he was instantly attracted to Bella at the garage. You'd have to be an idiot not to be. She needs a man that can give her a relationship and stability and all that shit. James certainly can do all of that.

So why am I so fucking irritated?

_Irritation_ is what I've decided to call it, because I can't really describe what _it_ is. This _feeling_ has been gnawing at me since James phoned this morning to tell Bella her truck was fixed then promptly asked her out. The feeling started in the pit of my stomach and crept its way up into a lump in my throat where it has decided to lodge itself.

I hate it.

I have no fucking right to feel anything as far as Bella's dating life goes, so my plan is to push it all down and hope to hell it disappears.

While Sparky gets ready for her "date," I cringe and decide I may as well get ready for work. The restaurant doesn't really have a dress code, per se, unless you call jeans, a plaid shirt, and a cowboy hat, if you're Jasper, a dress code, but it attracts the customers and keeps them drinking, which will lead to their hopefully eating.

It's a win-win for us.

I grab my usual bartending clothes; my worn-in button-fly jeans and a short-sleeved plaid shirt over a black t-shirt. Nothing special, but the ladies love it. I may have heard a few of them whispering to each other from time to time about the way I look.

I try to tame my hair, but with a mind of its own, it doesn't work. Once I'm satisfied with my appearance, I grab my leather jacket and Doc Marten boots and head out to wait for Bella in the living room.

Sitting on the couch, I lay my head back, closing my eyes and trying to calm my irritation. I already know this is going to be a long night.

I don't have to open my eyes to know that Bella's in the room, I can just feel her presence.

The corner of my mouth rises in a smirk. "Are you enjoying the view?" A cocky move, I know, but she's the one that's stayed silent.

I hear her clear her throat. "I, um… I'm ready now, if you want to go."

I open my eyes and look at her, my eyes scanning as they typically do whenever she's near. It's a fucking good thing I'm sitting because she looks so goddamn sexy. She has on this little black dress that plunges low in the front and is really short, exposing her legs. Licking my lips, I follow said legs down to her delicate feet that are encased in these black, high shoes that I want to see her parade around in… naked.

She looks so unsure of herself standing there, and I just can't take my eyes off of her. "You look…" I cough, trying to find the words. "You look gorgeous, Bella." And she does, along with ravishing, beautiful, sexy, just fucking perfect. James is a lucky son of a bitch, and I'm the biggest idiot in history for ever having the ridiculous thought to get them to meet.

She looks down shyly, smoothing out the fabric of her skirt against her thighs. "Thank you, Edward."

This time it's my turn to clear my throat, my eyes moving back to hers. "I guess we should leave."

"Are we taking the bike?" she asks.

I can't hide my smirk. "How else are we going to get there, Sparky?"

"But my dress…" she starts.

"It's a good thing you'll be wrapped around me then, isn't it?" I tease, quirking my brow.

Just the thought of her body against mine causes my dick to rise. Every time I think of her and how perfect she feels wrapped around me on the Ducati, I'm plagued with a constant hard-on.

Because I have shit for luck, my cock makes itself known through my jeans. There's no way Bella won't be able to see the bulge in my pants. I watch as her eyes narrow and take in my desire. I should be embarrassed but I'm not. I just sit there and let her look at me.

"Bella?" I prompt, grinning as she lifts her eyes back to mine.

"Yeah?" she breathes.

"You ready?"

She wets her bottom lip. "Mmm hmm."

I stand up and adjust myself, walking toward her. Her eyes widen, flashing up to my face once more, and I grin. What else am I supposed to do? Try to hide it? I couldn't even if I tried. I can see through her dress that her nipples are hard as rock. "We should leave now," I murmur as I brush past her, making my way to the door.

She takes a deep breath and turns to follow me outside, muttering to herself.

"You might want to bring your jacket; you look like you're cold," I suggest over my shoulder as I hold the door open. Now I'm just fucking with her, but I want her to know that I noticed her chest.

I know she isn't cold.

_DATLS_

The open road, wind in my face, and two of the sexiest legs that are close to being wrapped around my waist. Life couldn't be better.

Too bad I'm facing the wrong fucking way.

Getting Bella on the bike without flashing the world was a task but she did it; problem is, now I can feel her heat against my back as she squirms against me. She's driving me crazy and doesn't even know it.

James fucking owes me for this.

Again, the darkness creeps up inside and it takes every ounce of my will to push it away. I accelerate the Ducati faster than I know I should, trying to leave my thoughts behind. She tightens her arms around me, burying her cheek between my shoulders. So much for leaving it behind.

The Lone Star is packed when we arrive, dinner crowds are gathering, and Rose has a line almost out the door to deal with. I follow Bella inside with my hand on the small of her back.

I can feel her shudder as my hand makes contact with the silky material of her dress. Just a few more inches lower and I could grab a handful of her ass. Fuck, I want to touch her ass, but I refrain. Instead, I lean down so my lips are next to her ear. "Go sit at the bar. I'll make you a drink while you wait."

She nods and makes her way to one of the stools, oblivious to all the males that have whipped their heads around to look at her. Not wanting to see the shameless eye-fucking, I make a hasty retreat to my office, unlocking the door and hanging up my jacket. I need a moment to collect my thoughts before things get out of control out there. James had better treat her right tonight; she doesn't need some man taking advantage of her.

_Like you, Cullen?_

I run my hand through my hair and try to divert my train of thought before it gets the best of me.

_Get yourself together!_

Fortunately, Emmett's off-key and extremely loud singing drifts to me, effectively bringing me back to the task at hand. Taking a deep breath, I make my way back to the bar, resolved that I'll at least try to act like a normal human being.

"Eddie, it's gonna be a busy one tonight, and the ladies that frequent table three were asking about you," Em greets as he moves behind the bar with a crate of glasses.

"Great," I mumble to myself, getting situated behind the bar. Of course, my eyes immediately drift to Bella, sitting at the end, toying with a napkin as her eyes dart to the front door. She's nervous, I can tell.

Slinging a red plaid towel over my shoulder, I lean against the bar in front of her. "So, what will it be, Sparky?"

She diverts her eyes from the door, letting out a big breath and straightening up on the bar stool. "I'll have vodka and orange please… make it a double."

"A double, before dinner?" I question, grinning as lift a brow.

She's clearly not impressed and narrows her eyes at me. "Just pour the drink, Edward."

"Yes, ma'am."

Turning from the bar, I pull a highball glass down, pouring the vodka, twisting the bottle in my hands like a pro. I can see the fan club over at table three watching like horny housewives that haven't seen a member of the male species in years. I smirk at them for good measure. Got to keep the customers happy, right? Who am I kidding? I want Bella to notice that the ladies are gawking, not that it'll change anything.

Her gaze follows mine while she turns in her seat, looking taken aback as her mouth forms the perfect O, but she quickly recovers and turns back, clearing her throat.

"Classy," she mumbles.

"What was that, Sparky?" I ask, placing the drink down, dropping a ripe red cherry in as I slide it towards her. I really am an ass.

"Nothing," she huffs. "Nothing at all."

I quickly become immersed in filling never-ending drink orders, and checking on Bella a few times before James shows up twenty minutes later dressed to impress. I can tell that he's excited to see her, and I swallow back the ugly feeling that creeps up… again. I focus all my energy into repeatedly rubbing the same spot on the bar with my towel over and over again.

Bella turns in her seat and smiles shyly as he approaches, returning his wave while he weaves his way through the crowd at the door. I really don't want to be a witness to this shit, so I decide to just cut my losses. Leaning across the wooden bar, I raise my voice above the boom of the country music that engulfs the restaurant. "Have a good night, Bella. You really look beautiful."

She offers me a vague smile, and I nod to James, putting on the perfect mask of nonchalance before focusing my attention on making yet another round of Mudslides for the freshmen girls who've planted themselves at the opposite end of the bar.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see James greet Bella as I pour Kahlua into a glass. He leans down and kisses her cheek, pulling a daisy out from behind him. Bella's eyes light up as she takes the flower and thanks him, her eyes drifting down the bar to where I'm standing.

I turn my back on her, sliding the Mudslides down to the giggling freshmen before realigning the bottles that line the back of the bar for the fifth time since I arrived. I need to control myself, because right now all I want to do is beg her not to go, beg her to just come home with me. I want it to be my hand that trails down her back as _we_ walk out of the Lone Star.

I am royally fucked.

_DATLS_

It's close to twelve when it eventually dies down.

After a close call of being sexually harassed by the fan club at table three, and another near mishap in the kitchen with Eric, I make my way back to my office. The silence that this room provides is exactly what I need. No one shouting their demands at me, no cleaning up drunken spills, and no orders to correct in the kitchen.

Although being busy gave my mind a break from wondering about Bella and James, I sure as hell don't feel like being here anymore. Everywhere I look, I see her. Every single brunette morphs into the woman that has taken over my mind.

I need to get the hell out of here.

I track Rose down in the kitchen, talking to Alice. "Hey, Rosie, I'm going to head out. You can handle closing up, right?"

"Everything okay, boss?" she asks, the skeptical look on her face alone calling me on my bullshit.

"Yeah, everything is fucking fantastic. I'll see you guys tomorrow."

I start to head to collect my jacket, but a hand grabs onto my wrist.

_Fucking Firecracker._

"Yes, Alice?_"_

"Seriously?" she chides me. "You think I can't see what's going on?"

"I have no idea what you're getting at, but I can bet that you're wrong."

"Never bet against me, Edward. You won't win." She huffs. "This…" she waves her tiny hand in front my face. "… shitty attitude you've had all night is all about _her_ isn't it?"

"This…" I wave my hand back at her, "…is none of your fucking business, Alice."

She simply crosses her arms and stares at me. She can call my bluff, but doesn't utter a word.

"You're not going to let this go, are you?" I ask.

She shakes her head, lifting a brow.

"Well, I hope you enjoy disappointment."

_DATLS_

Usually, when I get on my bike and ride, it feels like everything that weighs a thousand pounds on my shoulders melts away. However, because Lady Luck is clearly not on my side, I feel like shit.

I know that I like Bella more than I should. My attraction to her can light a fire, it's so strong. Everyone can see it, everyone except for Bella. I know I do a good job of hiding it. I have to, and it's for her own good. I don't want to hurt her. Her ex did enough of that for the both of us.

After driving for a while, I pull up to the familiar parking lot of Fly's Tie Irish Club_. _Fly's is a tavern that I've been going to since I was able to get in legally. It's a small pub with good drinks, great music—not that trendy club shit—and they house open mic nights.

The atmosphere is exactly what I need—a place to let go and not be the one serving the drinks. I take a seat at the corner of the bar and order a Jameson on the rocks.

I take in the music from the house band and down my sixth or is it my eighth drink. I think I've lost track. I'm pretty sure I'm close to being really intoxicated when I notice the cutest little brunette sitting at the opposite end of the bar. She bites her lip and slides off her barstool in a classic move that I recognize even though I'm wasted.

The room is spinning as she makes her way over to me, I know that she isn't Bella, but my eyes and my hardening cock really want her to be.

"Hey, handsome," she breathes in my ear. "Want some company?"

I chuckle because I've dreamed of Bella saying those words to me almost every night while I lie in bed… shower… jerk off... you get my drift.

"What did you have in mind?" I slur.

"Follow me," she whispers as she tugs on my arm and leads me, stumbling, out the back door of Fly's into the dark, quiet night. I can't even catch my train of thought before she pushes herself up against me.

"You looked so lonely sitting there, handsome," she murmurs as she trails her lips across my neck.

_Bella… heaven._

"Mmm…"

She nips at my ear, tugging on my earlobe as her hands begin the trail of seduction up and down my chest, over my stomach, creeping just enough underneath my shirt to comb her nails through the hair above my jeans.

"What d'ya say? Feels like you're up for it," she mutters as she palms my erection.

"Fuck, Bella," I groan with my eyes screwed shut tight.

"Bella? Are you fucking married, asshole?" the tiny brunette shrieks.

"What? No…" This shit cannot be happening to me. Seriously, this is crazy already. If it wasn't painfully obvious before, it is now.

I want Isabella Swan.

My attraction to her, my need to have her is stronger than it ever was with Kate, and being the fucking idiot I am, I basically handed her over to James.

"Fuck!" I shout, startling the nameless woman.

Instead of sticking around, she scurries back to the door, mumbling under her breath. The door slams shut as she enters, and I'm once again all on my own.

I don't know who the hell I'm trying to fool anymore. With shaky hands, I pull my cell out of my jacket, dropping it on the ground and having to bend down to pick it up from the gravel. Everything spins when I stand back up, and I lean against the cool brick of the bar while I fumble through my saved numbers.

I contemplate just calling Emmett or Jasper, and having one of them pick me up, but this is just too fucking embarrassing for words. There's no way I can drive myself home tonight; I'm completely shitfaced. And so, I manage to find the number for the cab company, and stagger around to the front waiting for my ride home.

_DATLS_

The house is dark when I spill out of the cab and stumble up the driveway to the front door. Either Bella's home or in bed, or worst case scenario, she isn't back yet. Isn't there a standard time that a lady should be dropped off at home? Nah, just my drunken mind going overboard again. I can wish, though.

I somehow manage to unlock the door after dropping the keys more than once and push through into the hallway, the door clicking shut behind me. I've enjoyed every minute of living alone until now. My house is dark and empty.

I run my hands over my face and sigh, dropping the keys onto the side table and shrugging out of my jacket. I'm not really sure where it lands as I make my way to the kitchen.

Well, no time like the present to pour another drink. Pulling down a glass from the cupboard, I take the ice cube tray from the freezer, reaching for a half-full bottle of Jameson's.

Cracking the cubes from the tray proves to be trickier than it looks, and I end up with more on the floor than in the glass. Abandoning the mini mess I've just created, I grab the glass and bottle, and make my way over the living room couch. Falling back onto it, I pour myself a drink, sit back and wait for Bella to come home… to me.

_DATLS_

_**Bella**_

I throw my head back, laughing as James finishes his story about failing to be the football star his father always dreamed of.

"It was pretty clear after being hit in the head with the ball ten times in a row that I was better as a water boy… or a mascot," he adds, laughing and carrying my shoes while we walk along the sandy beach outside of the restaurant.

"I'm sorry it didn't work out for you," I say sincerely as the water laps gently against my toes.

It's been one of the best dates I've ever had. Not that I have a whole lot to compare it to. My entire dating experience rests with Jake, where a trip to the movies to see the latest bang-'em-up-shoot-'em-up film once a year was the extent of the excitement. I was lucky if I got to share a bag of popcorn with him.

"I'm not sorry," he says firmly. "If I had been any good, I probably never would have met you."

I feel the heat rise in my cheeks and I shake my head, brushing my hair back while the light breeze from the ocean causes a strand to drift in front of my face.

"I've had a really great time tonight," I admit, glancing up at him and taking in his ruggedly handsome features highlighted from the flickering lights of the restaurant behind him. James is attractive, there's no denying that, and he definitely knows what he's doing when it comes to dating… at least I think he does.

"Me too." He grins, holding his free hand out to me. I take it gladly and without hesitation. He squeezes my hand gently, swaying our arms as we move up the beach, back toward the restaurant.

It's a sweet gesture, much like everything he's done tonight. The daisy, which is currently taking up residence behind my ear, the restaurant on the beach which was perfectly warm and inviting, holding my shoes while I dip my toes in the ocean. Everything has been perfect.

So why do I feel this nagging sense of guilt?

Sadly, I think I know the answer. As much as James is a very sweet guy, who I'm obviously attracted to on some level, he doesn't produce the intense and, quite frankly, dangerous draw that a certain other man who obviously knows how to push my buttons does.

My thoughts drift back to Edward as they've been doing all night… well, since I met him, actually. There was definitely an edge to him at times today, like he was irritated about something. I hope everything is okay with the restaurant. Judging by how busy the Lone Star's been, I'm sure it's raking in a lot of money, and he seemed perfectly happy flirting with the never-ending cycle of freshman girls who flock to hang on his every move. At least he's consistent with his mood swings.

As we move back up the beach toward the restaurant, my toes sink into the warm sand and I lose my footing, causing James to tighten his hand around mine.

"You okay there?" he asks, grinning as I lean against him to prevent myself from falling.

I laugh, heading to a bench just behind the restaurant. "Yeah, just getting used to the sand." James nods, motioning for me to sit, keeping a firm hold of my hand as I sink down to the wooden seat.

"I'll need those back," I say, smirking as he stares down at me, still holding my stilettos in his free hand.

"Right… yeah," he says after a beat. "I guess you will. They aren't my size anyway." He chuckles, suddenly sinking down in front of me, setting one shoe down and gingerly lifting my right foot, sliding my shoe on, his fingers trailing lightly over my ankle.

Goosebumps break across my skin, and I take a shaky breath in at the contact. It's an intimate gesture that he repeats slowly as he slips my other shoe on, glancing up at me, his blue eyes piercing.

I'm not going to lie; it feels pretty damn good to have someone look at me like he is. Jake sure as hell never looked at me this way. James rises slowly, extending his hand to me. Our eyes stay locked as he pulls me gently from the bench, his torso pressing against mine along with something else... something extremely hard that's currently straining against his trousers and pushing against my thigh.

My eyes widen while my heart races and I take a step back, onto the boardwalk beside the bench, feeling the need to put some distance between us before I do something really stupid. As tempting as James is, I know it would be a colossal mistake to take this night any further. I'm only just beginning to try to put my life back together and starting to work on the background for my thesis.

I think I may have bitten off more than I can chew with wanting to examine the evolution of relationships, which is precisely why I need a thesis advisor, stat. With Edward paying for the initial transfer fees to get the process started, and my meeting with the Dean scheduled for next week, things in my life are finally settling into place.

Staring up at James, his intense gaze never faltering, I know I need to be careful. It would be extremely easy for me to fall back into a relationship, and right now, that's the last thing I need.

"Let's get you to your truck," James suggests, his voice low.

I'm thankful for his well-timed suggestion. "The _beast_, you mean?"

"Beast? It's a classic!" he says happily, lifting my hand to kiss the back.

I smile at his enthusiasm. "Try telling that to Edward. He thinks it's on its last legs," I mumble, rolling my eyes.

"It just needs a little TLC... some care and attention," he murmurs, placing his hand on the small of my back, guiding me down the boardwalk to the parking lot. Somehow, I think he's talking about something other than my beloved truck.

I smile up at James as we make our way through the parking lot, thinking back over the evening. I suppose in a way, my research has already started. I remember the conversation Edward and I had on Amelia Island where he told me he was "the nice guy." I wonder what category he would put James into. To me, James seems like a poster boy for the perfect nice guy. He's attentive and has been nothing but respectful—a true gentleman. I think Charlie would have really liked him.

My heart constricts thinking about Charlie, but I manage to keep my emotions in check. The last thing I need is to break down in front of James. That would just be a lovely way to end a perfect evening; with me a blundering, sobbing mess.

We arrive at James' jacked-up, white Chevy Suburban, and I scowl at having to try to get myself into this thing again. I've never understood why anyone would want to lift up their vehicle to the point where you practically need a step ladder to get into it. I'm silently regretting my choice of a dress tonight. I hardly ever wear them, but it's the one and only nice piece of clothing I brought with me.

As James leans forward, opening the passenger door for me, his lips dangerously close to mine, the scent of spicy cologne drifts to me, reminding me of one thing and one thing only. He's not Edward.

My wayward thoughts stir in my head as I size up the distance I have to hike my leg up to in order to climb into the seat. Judging from the look on James' face, I think he's thoroughly enjoying the whole thing.

Refusing to be defeated, I lift my foot to the gleaming chrome step bar, my shoe sliding forward as I push myself up. I slide onto the seat and miraculously manage to not give him an eyeful in the process. Finally situated, I cross my legs as his eyes drift back down to my shoes.

I lift a brow when his gaze finally moves back to mine, and he smiles, shaking his head as he shuts my door. I pull the seatbelt around my hips, clicking it into place while he moves around to the driver's side. It seems easy for him to slide behind the wheel, and he quickly slips the key into the ignition and starts the engine.

With a smirk, firmly planted on his handsome face, he glances over at me. "Pink, huh?"

I feel the color drain from my face. Holy fuck! He's seen my underwear. So much for my assessment of him being a gentleman. And here I thought I was being all stealthy when I climbed into the passenger seat. Well, two can play this game, James. "At least I decided to not go commando tonight," I fire back at him playfully.

His smirk fades, his mouth dropping open for a moment before he starts laughing. "I guess I deserved that."

"Yes. You did."

"It was a lucky guess on my part," he offers, his grin returning as he pulls out of the parking lot and into the street, taking my hand once more and giving it a gently squeeze.

It's really hard to stay mad at him.

_**DATLS**_

I'm practically bouncing behind the wheel of my truck as James leans against the frame of the driver's side window, watching me with an amused expression.

"It works!"

"Of course it does," he says, sounding slightly wounded.

"Thank you so much! You have no idea how much this means to me. This truck is…" I shake my head, turning to look at him. "Just thank you."

His smile widens. "You're welcome. It was great to work on a classic like this."

"As soon as I get my first paycheck from the restaurant, I'll be able to start payment." I glance at him nervously. "I hope that's alright."

He lets out a long breath, raking his hand through his hair. "Hmm… I don't know, Bella. I think we need to come up with something better than that," he says seriously.

My face falls and I try to swallow down the lump in my throat. _Shit!_ I guess I could always dip into my reserve fund, even though I swore I would only use that as a last resort. "Um…"

He laughs, his hand reaching through the open window to cover mine over the steering wheel. "How about I cook dinner for you. Maybe tomorrow night? And we can discuss payment terms."

"Are you trying to bribe me?" I ask, returning his playful smirk.

"Would I do something like that?"

I level him a stare. "I don't know. You tell me."

He leans further into the cab of the truck, his lips dangerously close to mine. "Yes… yes, I would." His sharp blue eyes lock to mine. "Say yes, because I really want to see you again."

I take a sharp breath in. "Yes." The word escapes before I even have time to stop it.

_DATLS_

It's after twelve-thirty when I turn off the highway following James' handwritten directions. It's a good thing I have them, or I'm sure I'd be lost in the middle of nowhere of Jacksonville by now, and that would not be a good thing.

The stereo hums and I sing about seeing the rain with CCR as I gaze at the now familiar neon blue lights of the bridge off in the distance. A few days ago, I was convinced that those lights had lied to me, but maybe there's hope for me after all.

_DATLS_

Shutting off the truck and sliding out of the driver's seat, I lock the door, looking up apprehensively at the house that's ensconced in darkness. I take the stairs to the door, turning the knob and finding it open. My heart warms for a moment thinking maybe Edward left it unlocked, not wanting me to have to fumble to find my keys in the dark.

Stepping into the hallway, I see his leather jacket strewn haphazardly on the floor, my brow furrowing as I pick it up. I've never seen him leave his jacket just lying around, and I'd be lying if I said it doesn't make me just a bit nervous. Of course, his unique scent has to wash over me from the jacket as I turn to hang it up in the closet. I close my eyes, humming to myself.

On a certain level, I think I'm not being fair to James accepting his invitation to dinner when I clearly am starting to feel something for Edward. But I also know that Edward and I can't cross that line—the line we decided to draw of being 'roomies' and 'friends.' And therein lies one of the many complications with navigating relationships. Can you be attracted to more than one person at the same time? This thesis is going to kill me.

Moving down the darkened hallway, my eyes have a hard time adjusting as all of the lights are turned off. I feel my way along the wall, stopping in my tracks when I step into the living room, the muted light from the hazy moon outside illuminating the crazed hair and chiseled jaw that have occupied my thoughts since I laid eyes on him.

He's leaning back on the sofa, a large bottle of liquor between his thighs, a glass of amber liquid dangling from his fingers as he sways it slowly back and forth. I take another step toward him, my heart racing. Fuck, he's gorgeous, and I know instantly my attraction to James doesn't hold a candle to what I'm starting to feel for Edward.

"Edward?" I squeak out.

He cocks his head to the side, his eyes narrowed before he breaks out the smirk that I know is designed to torture me. "The one an'only," he slurs, his heated gaze fixed on me.

"Are you alright?"

He swirls the liquid in the glass before raising it to his lips. "Why wouldn' I be, brown eyes?"

I try unsuccessfully to hide my laughter. "You sound like you might be drunk."

"Mmm…" His eyes sweep over me from behind his raised glass. "You catch on fast, Sparky." He slams his hand on the cushion beside him. "Come tell me 'bout your big date, _roomie,_" he stammers.

"Um… do you really want to know?"

He narrows his eyes, his grip tightening on the glass in his hand. "He didn' try anything, did he?"

I roll my eyes, moving to sit beside him, the smell of whiskey hitting me hard as I sink onto the sofa. I glance at the almost empty bottle between his legs. That's a massive mistake as my eyes trail over his button fly jeans with the pronounced bulge. _Jesus_. A low chuckle rumbling from his chest causes me to snap my eyes back to his.

"No, he was a perfect gentleman." I stare back at his cloudy, clearly intoxicated eyes, wondering just how much of this bottle he's had to drink.

"Mmm…" He nods lazily, draining the rest of the liquid in his glass. "I'll bet he was… Smooth fucker. Where did you guysgo? The movies…mmmdinner?"

I shake my head in amusement. It's like the first night when he tried to pry information out of me—granted he wasn't completely wasted and slurring his words together then. "What's with the twenty questions, Agent Cullen?"

"Gotta have my roomie's back," he says, peering into the bottom of the empty glass.

I reach for the glass, slowly pulling it out of his hand as he pouts at me.

"Wasn' done," he complains, leaning back onto the sofa and turning his head to me.

"Oh you're done, Cullen. How much have you had, anyway?" I motion with my head to the bottle between his legs.

"Why don't you come find out, Sparky?" he challenges, the patented smirk replacing the pout as his eyes rest hungrily on my shoes. What is it about men and these shoes?

I kick them off, leveling him the Swan bitch brow before slowly reaching between his legs and pulling on the mouth of the bottle. _Don't look at the button fly… don't look at the button fly. _But, of course, I do, feeling the heat rise in my face and stifling a groan. He tightens his thighs, making it harder for me to extract the bottle, but I somehow manage to, holding it up to the light filtering through the window as I examine it.

"Please don't tell me this was full when you started," I admonish, looking with concern at the remnants swirling in the bottom of the bottle.

I set it down on the coffee table and turn to see him pulling his thumb and index finger across his lips like he's zipping them.

"What am I going to do with you, Cullen?"

He performs the motion of unzipping his lips, his tongue darting along the corner of his mouth. "Anything you want."

_Oh, you have no idea the things I want to do._

I shake my head, extracting myself from the couch and holding out my hand. "Bed, Cullen."

He grins. "But we haven' e'en made out yet or anything." Still cocky even when he's wasted.

"You're completely trashed and you need to sleep." I reach for his hand, sliding mine into his. "Come on."

I tug hard and he clumsily tries to push off the sofa, laughing at his repeated failed attempts until finally, he rises. He closes his eyes, listing slightly to the side as his head lolls back.

"Shit! Edward!" I move beside him before he falls, wrapping my arm around his waist as he leans slightly into me, closing my eyes to the feel of his body tucked next to mine. "Maybe you should crash down here," I suggest as he starts shuffling forward, his arm sliding around my waist.

"No," he almost whines, causing me to laugh. "I want my bed and you in it."

Suddenly, I'm not laughing anymore. I focus on the stairs, pushing his drunken words aside as we sway our way slowly across the floor.

"You should wear more dresses," he announces, tightening his hand over my hip.

I chuckle, looking up at him. "That's your advice? That I should wear more dresses?"

He nods, his tongue sweeping over his bottom lip as he blatantly looks over his shoulder, his eyes drifting down my back as he lets out a low groan. "Mmhmm… your legs… just… dresses."

"Thanks, oh fashion guru. I'll keep that in mind."

He sways slightly as we stop in front of the stairs while I seriously question whether I'm going to be able to get him up them.

"The first step is the deepest, baby, I know!" Edward's drunken singing voice fills the darkened staircase and I look up at him, laughing at just how smashed he is.

"It's the first _cut_ is the deepest, you moron." He grins down at me, his eyes sweeping to my chest as I take in his stubbled jaw and drunken smirk; his black t-shirt taunts under his open plaid button down. It really should be illegal to look this fucking hot, particularly when you're as drunk as he is.

"Singing really isn't your thing, Cullen. Don't quit your day job," I say, both of us laughing as we move at a snail's pace up the stairs.

Somehow, we manage to make it to the landing at the top without falling over, and he tries to turn for my room. "Your room is this way." I nod toward his open door, feeling his fingers easing across the nape of my neck, under my hair.

As I start for his room, his warm breath waves over my cheek. "The hallway is confusing," he whispers.

My face flames at the memory of being caught in the hallway, listening while he did… whatever it was he was doing the other day. _Like you don't know what he was doing, Bella!_

He stops at the entrance to his room, leaning down once more, his lips close to my ear, causing an involuntary shudder. "I was jacking off," he breathes, his voice low and husky and landing firmly in a place it really shouldn't.

"Jesus," I murmur, trying to move us forward into his room and get that particular visual out of my head. He really needs to get into bed and sleep this off.

"I was thinkin' 'bout you," he continues, his hand stroking my hair as I will my racing heart to calm. "You have pretty hair."

"Mmhmm," is my quipped response as we reach the side of the bed.

He buries his face into my hair, breathing deeply. "Mmm… Bella…"

Taking a shaky breath in, I slip my arm reluctantly away from his toned waist. "Okay, sleeping beauty. In you go." Turning to flatten my hand up his chest, I push him gently until he falls onto the bed, his laughter filling the room as his back presses to the mattress, his long legs dangling off the side.

I grab his ankles, swinging his legs up, shaking my head at the fact that he still has his Doc Martens on. I release the laces, listening as he groans. "Mmm… start there."

"You're really going to feel this in the morning, Cullen." I pull one boot off, dropping it to the floor, before starting on the other.

"I want to feel it righ'now," he slurs.

I shake my head, wiggling the boot until it slides off his foot, placing it on the floor beside the bed with the other.

He stretches his arm out, waving his long fingers in the air. "Come 'ere."

I push off the bed, trying really hard not to laugh at him as I move forward. He's going to have a massive hangover in the morning. "Time for you to sleep it off."

His hand darts out, closing around my wrist, tugging me back to the bed.

I furrow my brow, my heart jumping again. "Stay wi' me," he says roughly, blinking up at me, looking all rumpled and extremely inviting.

"And get puked on? No thanks."

I try to slide my arm away, but he's having none of it, tugging harder and causing me to fall back, my ass hitting the mattress beside him.

"I never puke, Sparky," he slurs, his hand trailing up my arm, leaving a heated trail in its wake.

"Famous last words," I mumble.

"Please?" I make the mistake of staring back down into his drunken, pleading eyes, and any shred of willpower I did have quickly vanishes.

"Move over," I relent, shaking my head at him.

He flashes me a grin, trying to sit up slightly, his upper body swaying in the process. "Whoa… spinning," he mumbles, shifting his body over before dropping back to the mattress.

I laugh, stretching out beside him, trying to calm my racing heart.

He turns on his side to face me, the scent of whiskey hanging thickly in the air. "Is there gonna be a date number two?" he asks, his eyes slowly closing as he drops a heavy arm around my waist.

"Yeah, there is," I answer quietly, my eyes settling on the unique features of his face.

"Mmm… relationship territory," he mumbles, his breathing starting to deepen.

"It's just dinner," I whisper, my fingers hovering over his face, ghosting across the faint stress line on his forehead.

He hums, his warm, whiskey-laden breath fanning over my neck as his arm tightens around my waist. "Cuddling… much better," he murmurs, his head dropping slightly onto my shoulder.

How can I argue with that?

Chapter end notes:

A drunken Lonestarward? Hmm… thoughts?

Twitter: MizzezPattinson , CarLemon


End file.
